


Ought Summer

by nemeadow



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemeadow/pseuds/nemeadow
Summary: Anne and Gilbert have spent the whole school year apart, but summer has finally arrived. They'll be reconnecting with family, spending time with friends, and keeping up with all the work that needs done. Through it all, they'll learn more about themselves, each other and how to be in a relationship while living next door to each other for a change. Lots of kissing, lots of fluff, maybe a little drama.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 87
Kudos: 264





	1. Leaves of Grass and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summers on the farm are busy for both Anne and Gilbert, but they'll find time to be together. Just a normal summer day in Avonlea. 
> 
> Inspired by one of those "I need to see this scene in Season 4" Twitter posts.

“Well,” Bash lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a dirty sleeve, “looks like the potatoes are done…for now”. One of the things Gilbert liked least about farming was that the work was never really done. He could see rows and rows of bright green potato leaves pooling over the weed-free, dark red soil that he and Bash had been hoeing all day. The contrast in color was beautiful, and he took a minute to appreciate it. Yet he knew that across the field, where the two had begun their work earlier this week, new weeds would already be poking up. It made him feel like he was constantly at war with nature. It was the opposite of what most fascinated him in medical research; exploring how to work _with_ nature - both to discover hidden remedies in the natural world, and to amplify the human body’s natural processes to heal and protect itself.

But Gilbert was home for the summer, and the potatoes were not going to protect themselves from weeds without human/hoe intervention. “So, this is good,” Bash noted as he swung his hoe up over his shoulder and the two of them started towards the farmyard, “We can get to work on the barn roof first thing in the morning, before the sun is up too high.” “Yeah,” Gilbert sighed, “very exciting…”

Bash chuckled, “It’s good having you around, because you know what you’re doing. But it’s also good when you go away and I don’t have to listen to you whine about farm-work. Elijah does not whine, you know. He’s still terrified that I might kick him off the farm, and some of these days, I’m afraid I might, too. Still…he may hoe up half the potato plants and leave half the weeds, but there’s no moanin’ about hard labor.”

Gilbert scoffed, “It’s not the labor I mind. Didn’t I shovel coal with you all those months at sea? I wasn’t whining then! I’m not whining now, either. At least, not about working hard. It’s the endlessness that gets to me. You don’t get to feel a sense of completion. There’s always the next thing to - “

“To keep you away from picnics on the beach and rambles through the woods with a certain pretty redhead we both know?” Gilbert smiled sheepishly and shook his head. Bash laughed, “Ah, I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you, Blythe. I would NOT have been happy with only letters between me and Mary for weeks on end. You would have seen me hopping a train after the first couple of days apart!” His voice softened, ”I’m thankful Mary’s dreams and mine were the same, and led us both here, together. For a little while, at least.” The men walked in silence then, each smiling his own sad little smile and thinking his own sad little thoughts.

Elijah called a “hello” from behind the Guernsey he was milking as Gilbert and Bash stowed their tools in the barn. “Hello, Elijah. Hello Sluagh,” Gilbert scratched the cow between her eyes and turned to the man, “How are the apples looking?”

“Crowded. Not sure if that’s a good thing or bad, I guess. Good for us in the long run, not so good for me just now. I think it’ll be another couple days’ thinning before I’m done.”

Bash raised an eyebrow, “And you’re not overdoing it? I know we’ll be the ones picking whatever you’ve left in a few months, but I won’t be happy if we’re finding five apples a tree just to make harvest easy.” Elijah began to answer, but Gilbert interrupted, “Hah! Bash, weren’t you just telling me how much Elijah enjoys the farm-work, with nary a word of complaint? Holding him up as an example to me?”

Elijah grinned and patted the cow’s rump as he stood, “What’s this, now? I thought it was just me, having to hear the stories day in and day out about how _Gilbert_ would have done it faster, and smarter, and just…better.”

Bash pulled a straight face and crossed his arms as the boys turned to him, multiple eyebrows raised. “Well, I was right about all of it. You do a sloppy job and Gilbert kills me with his whining. Feel better now?” Much eye-rolling ensued. Gilbert smirked and picked up the milk bucket as Elijah began to lead Sluagh back to her stall. “Oh, Gilbert,” he called over his shoulder, ”Anne’s in the orchard with Delly.”

Gilbert’s head whipped back to look at Elijah. “Oh…OK. Thanks! Uh…” he looked at the bucket in his hand. Bash laughed and took it from him, “Go.” Gilbert smiled his thanks at Bash and set out for the orchard with a new spring in his step.

He heard them before he saw them. Delly was giggling loudly, “Flower, flower, flower!” and Anne giggled back before replying in mock frustration, “No, no, no, that’s not a flower - that’s a TWIG!” Gilbert slowed his steps and peeked around a lilac bush to watch. Anne sat at the base of an apple tree, winding wildflowers together, while Delly wobbled on chubby legs collecting treasures to take to her “auntie”. Both had flowers in their hair. Anne had additional grass in hers; wherever Delly had decided it was needed, Gilbert supposed.

The orchard was full of early evening summer sunshine, the buzz of bees, and the scent of warm grass and sweet clover. There was a light breeze, carrying just the faintest whiff of the shore. Gilbert’s heart was full of joy and love and gratitude, with a tinge of longing for a future with Anne just exactly as playful and happy as she was in this minute, but surrounded by their own children.

More giggles…“Flower!”

“That’s not a flower, that’s GRASS!”

Giggles…“Flower!”

“That’s not a flower, that’s a ROCK! Oh, no! Do you need tickles to help you remember what a flower is?” Delly shrieked with laughter as Anne pulled her onto her lap and tickled her. The toddler squirmed out to hunt some more.

“Flower, flower, flower!”

“Yes, Delly, _finally_ \- that’s a flower!”

“Kiss!”

“What? More tickles?”

“No!” Delly brought herself right up to Anne’s face, put her hands on Anne’s cheeks, and yelled, “Kiss!” She planted a slobbery kiss on Anne’s lips. Anne giggled more and held Delly, planting kisses all over her cheeks and forehead. “Ok, Delly, kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Gilbert quickly plucked some dandelions near his boots and stepped out from behind the bush. “Flower?” he asked as he approached the tree. Delly wriggled out of Anne’s lap and toddled toward him. He scooped her up as Anne stood and brushed off her skirt, laughing.Delly grabbed the flowers from Gilbert’s hand. “Kiss!” she said as she put her fists on his cheeks - nearly poking his eye with the stems - and kissed him. Then she held out the flowers to Anne, “Flowers! Gib-ert flowers!”

“Thank you Delly!” Anne took the flowers, “Thank you, Gilbert,” she smiled up at him. Gilbert lifted an eyebrow, “Kiss?” Anne giggled and stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips, just as Delly had. He quickly wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer for a longer kiss, and she happily reached up and slipped her fingers into his curls to assist. Delly had very little patience for this kind of thing, and was soon breaking them up by patting whatever parts of their faces were closest to her - cheeks and ears and hair and all.

Anne slid her hand out of Gilbert’s hair and down to his fingers as they strolled towards the house. “More potatoes today?”

“Yes, but we’re done for now. Barn roof tomorrow. Bash is very excited.” Anne laughed.

“And what have you been up to, Carrots?” Gilbert continued, “I’m one-hundred-percent sure you were not here watching Delly when we came up for tea, AND I’m one-hundred-percent sure Hazel was thrilled whenever you did show up. I think this one,” he kissed Delly’s head, which was now leaning heavily against his chest, “had a little too much energy this afternoon.”

“It was really, really easy to convince Hazel to turn her over to me, I admit. It looks like we managed to play the energy out. But don’t let her nap now; she’ll be up all night.” Gilbert stopped and extracted his hand from Anne’s so that he could put Delly down. “Sorry, Doux-doux, Auntie Anne says you have to walk home.” He squatted to set her feet on the path. She blinked up at him, then set off toward the house. In true toddler fashion, she was distracted by something - a bug, a rock, a weed - every few feet, which gave Anne and Gilbert the opportunity to walk behind her very slowly, very close to each other, fingers intertwined once again.

“Canning,” Anne said. “All I’ve been doing all day is canning with Marilla and Rachel. Which, on the one hand is tedious and hot and above all _sticky_ , but on the other hand does entail a lot of good gossip and laughter, and of course SO much sampling, because it can’t go into the jars until we’re sure it’s Green Gables-worthy!” she smiled proudly.

Gilbert’s brain decided to focus maybe a little too much on “hot and sticky”, Anne, and strawberry jam and he forgot to breathe for a moment. When his lungs kicked back in, he exhaled loudly.

Anne looked up at him, confused, “What?”

“Um...” He gave himself a good internal shake, “I…look forward to tasting the results of your labor. You will share, won’t you?”

Anne was certain he was not saying all he was thinking, but answered in good faith anyway, “Of course. I brought a basketful with me. And Marilla was too worn out - and, probably, full - to want to do much for supper, so I invited myself over here for a real meal! Fruit and sugar are all well and good in their place, but nothing balances an abundance of sweetness quite as well as Hazel’s spices.”

“Ouch!”Gilbert teased as he clutched his heart, “And I thought you were here to see me. I should have known I’m just the secondary attraction, behind Hazel’s spices!”

Anne shook her head, “Tertiary. I had quite a bit of fun with Delly, you know.”

“Oh-ho!” Gilbert laughed, “Well, just for that, I might _not_ help you get the detritus out of your hair before Hazel sees you. In fact…” he wiggled his eyebrows, “maybe I”ll let her think I’m to blame for it...”

“Gilbert Blythe!” Anne gasped, “you would threaten my unblemished reputation for the sake of your bruised ego?!”

He stopped short and turned to her, crossing his arms, “Uh, excuse me? Unblemished? YOUR reputation? What was that story you told me about currant wine? And something about green hair? And - ”

Anne half-gasped, half-laughed, “Gilbert Blythe!”

“Come to think of it, _Anne Shirley-Cuthbert_ ,” and he grabbed her hand again and gave a tug, so that she stumbled towards him and caught herself with her other hand against his chest, “if I’m going to get myself blamed for your disarray, I might as well actually have the fun of it!” He leaned in and kissed her laughing mouth so thoroughly that she ceased to laugh and became equally serious about kissing him back. Both jumped at the clang of the dinner bell. Delly was staring up at them.

Gilbert cleared his throat and Anne laughed, “Please, will you actually help with my hair?” He smiled and started to pick the flowers and grass out with careful fingers. Delly watched for a few moments, then tugged at her own hair, “Delly hair!” she wailed.

“Okay, Delly,” Anne stepped away from Gilbert for a moment to pick her up, “I’ll fix yours.” Anne picked at Delly’s hair while Gilbert picked at Anne’s, and Anne began to sing,

_There was a man lived in the moon, lived in the moon, lived in the moon,_

_There was a man lived in the moon,_

_And his name was Aiken Drum._

_And he played upon a ladle, a ladle, a ladle,_

_And he played upon a ladle,_ _and his name was Aiken Drum._

_And his hat was made of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese,_

_And his hat was made of good cream cheese,_

_And his name was Aiken Drum._

_And his coat was made of good roast beef -_

“Done!” Gilbert declared, “And you’re making me hungry.” Anne looked up at him as his hands came down from her hair. “Thank you,” she smiled.

“You’re welcome!” he said, and stole one more quick kiss before they walked through the yard towards the kitchen door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a play on the title of the book of poetry by Walt Whitman.
> 
> This started as a one-shot, but there was a lot more summer to talk about. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue!
> 
> Also, criticism is OK - I'm always working to get better. What do you wish I'd done differently?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Cutting Life Upon Corals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer in Avonlea continues. Anne and her friends get together for a clam bake. Moody's parents are not there. Gilbert is. There are cliffs, so you'll be hanging. 
> 
> More summer fluff.

Anne stood at the Green Gables kitchen table, mumbling over a large basket, “potatoes, carrots, onions, tin plates, cups, forks, knives…” A quick rap at the door interrupted her inventory, and as she looked up, Diana breezed in.

“Are you ready?”

“Almost. Napkins and the blueberry tarts and ginger snaps,” Anne ducked into and then out of the pantry, carrying two platters full of pastries. She carefully set them on top of the vegetables, layering napkins in between and over everything.

“Blankets?” Diana asked.

“Oh, right,” Anne ran up the stairs.

As Diana waited, Marilla emerged from the cellar carrying two large jars of pickles. “Hello, Diana. How is your mother feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. She’s still on bedrest, but her fever broke yesterday afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it! It’s never nice to be sick, but I always think it’s worse during the sunny summer days!”

“She’s certainly not happy to be stuck inside, but we were able to open the windows a little, and she appreciates the breeze.” Diana looked up as Anne came down the stairs with two light quilts over her arm. “Of course, ever since that night Anne nursed Minnie May back to health, fresh air has become our first response to any illness.”

Anne laughed, “I’m not sure it’s good for everything, but I think it’s helpful most of the time.”

Diana teased, “Perhaps you should compare notes with Gilbert on that. I wonder if his research has caught up to your experience yet.”

Anne just smiled. “Well Marilla, I think that’s everything. Can you think of anything else I might have forgotten?” Marilla set the pickles on the table and peeked in the basket, lifting the corners of napkins to get a glimpse of the contents.

“There are no beverages in here. I trust that someone else is bringing something for you to drink? Someone _responsible_?” Marilla looked at Anne pointedly.

Diana rushed to answer, “Mary Jo spent most of the morning juicing lemons for us, Miss Cuthbert. I’ve brought several jugs of lemonade in the carriage.”

Marilla smiled and nodded, “Well, that’s all right then. I think you’re all set!” She patted the basket and started towards the pantry, “And the MacPherson’s are chaperoning?”

“Y-y-yes…” Diana’s eyes darted to Anne’s, and Anne returned a questioning look. Diana just smiled.

“On your way, then,” Marilla called over her shoulder, “Have a lovely time!” 

Diana took the blankets from Anne’s arm, and Anne grabbed the basket, pulling her shawl off its hook on her way out the door. As soon they were settled in the carriage, Anne turned to Diana, “All right, tell me. What changed about the MacPherson's chaperoning us?”

“We-l-l,” Diana grinned, “It is _a_ MacPherson who will be there, but _not_ Moody’s parents.” As Anne gave her a confused look, she continued, “Mr. MacPherson came down with a nasty cold, and Mrs. MacPherson is staying home to look after him...so... they asked Moody’s grandfather to supervise the clam bake in their place!”

Anne’s eyes widened, “Old Amos MacPherson, who has never once stayed awake for a full sermon the entire time I’ve lived in Avonlea?”

Diana nodded, “That’s the one! I imagine if we feed him and keep him nice and warm, we won’t have to worry at all about being under his watchful eye.” At this, both girls were grinning fiercely. “Not, of course, that we’ll be doing anything _scandalous._ I mean, we’ve managed to avoid infamy despite _several_ unsupervised adventures in Charlottetown this year...Oh, but I forgot; Gilbert wasn’t with us in Charlottetown. Perhaps you are planning something scandalous after all?”

“Of course not,” Anne laughed, “But won’t it be wonderful to spend time all together without Moody’s mother making me feel like she’s afraid I’m going to break him just by existing in his vicinity?”

“Yes! And without the requisite sermon from Moody’s father on the dangers of ‘Demon Liquor’?” Diana added.

“Moody must be thrilled! He’s always so careful around his parents. I’m glad he’ll be able to relax and enjoy this night with the rest of us!”

So it was two very happy and excited young women who arrived at the beach and opened the carriage door to the aroma of woodsmoke and seaweed. The driver helped the girls carry their jugs and baskets and blankets down to the large, smoking pit in the sandy beach. Moody was nearby, helping his grandfather get settled comfortably on a blanket. Charlie looked up from tending the fire to greet them. “Hello, Diana. Hello, Anne.” 

Paul, who was carrying up pails of seaweed, said, “Hi! So, everyone’s spread out either digging clams or gathering driftwood. I saw Gilbert heading off that direction,” he pointed up the beach. Anne followed his finger with her eyes, but only saw Ruby and Jane, arms full of driftwood, walking back toward the pit. She waved at them. 

Diana said, “Alright Anne, where shall we set up?” 

Anne looked out over the beach. Several blankets had been spread out, with baskets and shoes and sundry other items anchoring them against the perpetual breeze. She pointed to an open spot in full sunshine, “How about over there?” Diana nodded, and the girls walked to the spot and spread one of the quilts. Anne immediately sat down on it and began to pull off her boots and stockings. As soon as her feet were free, she dug them into the sand. The top layer was very warm, but as she wiggled her toes further down, they soon encountered the cooler sand beneath. She leaned back, propping herself on her elbows, and took a deep breath. “Ahhhh, Diana, isn’t it good to be back at our own beach?” 

Diana sat down next to her and began to unlace her own boots, “It is,” she answered, “there really is nothing like spending months away to make you appreciate the charms of home!” 

Jane approached, having deposited the driftwood with Charlie, and Ruby with Moody. She said hello to both girls, but then turned to Diana. “Let’s find Josie and Tilly. Once we’ve got enough driftwood, we’re planning to hunt for sea glass.” As Diana set her boots on one corner of the quilt, Anne looked up expectantly at Jane, who continued, “Gilbert’s off that way,” pointing in the same direction Paul had. 

Anne sighed, “Well if everyone’s determined that I need to find Gilbert right away, I suppose I must!”

Diana stood up and grinned at her, “As if that wasn’t your plan all along. You see us every day at school. We love spending time with you, but we know the summer is short. Go!” She fluttered her hands as if shoo-ing Anne away and set off with Jane to find their friends.

Anne took one more deep breath, eyes closed and face to the sun, then got up to find Gilbert. The sand was soft and the breeze was gentle. As she walked, she would search the ground for sea glass or interesting shells, then look up and out to appreciate the beauty of the low, rolling waves stretching all the way to the shimmering horizon. There were a very few wispy clouds drifting languidly across the pale blue sky. She sauntered at the pace of the lazy summer day. 

As she rounded the edge of a large grass-topped dune, Anne saw him. He was still a tiny figure in the distance, but she could see that his back was to her, and that his trousers and sleeves were rolled up. She watched him work his shovel into the ground, squat to dig out a clam and toss it in his bucket, stand and look around at the sand for a while, and then repeat the process. 

Anne stopped looking down for treasures or out toward the horizon. Her gaze was squarely on Gilbert, and her heart fluttered a little as it always did whenever she first caught sight of him. She had to pick her way carefully over a few rocks, but once the beach was all sand again she walked faster than before, and with a great deal more determination. 

As she grew closer, she thrilled at his easy competence at the task. Anne always felt joy when she witnessed a person doing something well. The professional performers she had seen at Aunt Jo’s soirees and during several social outings in Charlottetown had sent her into ecstasies with their seemingly effortless mastery, but there was pleasure even in watching routine tasks performed well. She loved to watch Matthew planing wood in the barn, because he was so at ease with it; his hands and the plane working together with the deftness of long practice, smoothing the fragrant wood. She could get lost in the confident rhythm of Marilla’s foot on the sewing machine pedal as she worked away at a new dress. Diana’s fingers flying over the piano keys, Moody’s on the banjo strings, Cole’s as he sketched, or even her own as she braided her hair (not so often anymore - alas); all were beautiful in their skill.

So watching Gilbert, _her_ Gilbert - whose muscles she knew after many an embrace, and whose form she thought she had almost memorized, though she was sometimes surprised that she couldn’t remember some detail, like the exact shape of his earlobe, when she was in Charlottetown and he was far away in Toronto - to watch him swiftly and adroitly digging away made her heart swell with joy and pride. 

Suddenly the distance between Anne and the object of her fond gaze was much, much too far to tolerate, so she lifted her skirts and began to run. When she got to within shouting distance, though she didn’t shout, Gilbert turned his head and saw her. He smiled at her, bemused, as he dropped the shovel. Anne slowed a little, but ran right to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly. He responded in kind with equally firm kisses as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him.

When she pulled away just a little, he gazed at her face for a moment before saying, “Hello, Anne!” 

She smiled, sliding her hands down to his biceps, “Hello, Gilbert.”

“Not that I’m complaining. At all. But what’s this about?”

She took in a deep breath, “Oh, I just feel so _alive_ today, and I saw you digging, and you were all...well...you were...and I... It just seemed...imperative.”

He laughed and kissed her lightly, “Absolutely imperative. Necessary as food and water,” Another kiss.

Anne laughed and turned to look down into the bucket, “So, do you have enough clams yet?”

He released her, “Depends. I mean, I think I have enough for me, so...I guess you can take over now.” He picked up the shovel and held it out to her with a grin.

“Okay,” she grabbed the shovel out of his hand, and looked around at the sand, “what do I do first?”

“No, I was just…” he started.

“No, really,” she interrupted, looking back up at him, “I’ve never done this, but I’d like to learn. Will you teach me? Please?” Just as Gilbert began to answer, she interrupted again, “ Who knows, one day I might be forced to live in a cave on the beach, and the only thing that will save me from a long, slow, very painful death by starvation will be my ability to find and dig up clams!” Gilbert rolled his eyes, but she continued, placing her free hand over her heart, “Well, that and the sustaining memories of my patient, kind, handsome teacher who so many years ago believed with his whole heart that nobody should be denied survival skills merely because they were born a girl.” She looked at him expectantly.

Gilbert smiled and nodded, left eyebrow raised, “I see. Right. Well, far be it from me to pass up any opportunity to save your sad future life. Although, around here I should think it would be easier to steal or beg food from a farm nearby, especially if you know which ones to go to, as you do, and I promise you are always welcome to steal from my orchards, fields, and cellars...though I do wonder what has become of that patient, kind, and handsome teacher in this future?”

Anne shrugged, “Oh, don’t worry - I’m sure it was something very heroic and very tragical!” She smiled up at him and patted his chest, then went back to looking at the sand, “So, how do I start?”

“So patient!” Gilbert muttered through his smile, “Let me show you first,” and he took the shovel back.

Anne already knew to find the clams by their little water spouts in the sand, but Gilbert showed her proper technique for digging and how to decide which clams were big enough to keep. Anne dug while Gilbert stood with his hands in his pockets, watching, encouraging, and giving occasional advice. 

When Gilbert declared the bucket full enough, they washed the sand off their hands and began to stroll back towards the fire pit and their friends. He carried the bucket while Anne carried the shovel, and their free hands found each other. 

“Have you ever dug up anything _with_ the clams?” Anne asked.

“If you’re asking if there’s pirates’ treasure or anything like that, I’ve never come across any. I guess...I once found a wooden piece that looked like the handle to some kind of tool. And a couple of buttons?”

“Did you keep them?”

“Uh,” he let go of her hand to rub the back of his neck, “actually, yes?”

Anne stopped walking and looked up at him, “Why do you sound embarrassed about it? I have all kinds of collections in my room; dried flowers, shells on my dresser…oh - I guess you saw them.”

Gilbert smiled at the memory, “Yeah, I did notice them. There were a lot of shells and pine cones at your story club, too. But that’s just so...Anne.”

“And therefore embarrassing?”

“What?! NO! It’s...charming! Endearing!”

“So why would you think I wouldn’t find it charming and endearing if you collect things too?”

Gilbert thought about that for a moment, “Um, I’m not really sure...Huh...you know, it seems childish for me to do, but sweetly child-like in you? Like I should be less...sentimental?”

“Ugh!,” Anne forcefully stuck the shovel in the sand, “I HATE that being playful and child-like is seen as frivolous and foolish! You and I, especially, have some carefree childhood to make up for. And honestly, some of the smartest, most responsible people I know have a strong playful streak. Sentimental literally means ‘having feelings’, and I _know_ you have feelings. _Deep_ feelings. I’m very _glad_ you have feelings! That doesn’t stop you from being responsible; it _helps_ you, actually…” 

Anne realized that Gilbert was blinking at her, looking a little stunned. She sighed and shook her head, “Sorry, that frustration really wasn’t directed at you. I may have been dismissed as ‘childish’ a few too many times” She took his hand and kissed it, “Look, you are wonderful at being responsible and adult-ish, but you are also adorable when you are playful and child-like, and I want you to know that you can be all those things with me, and I won’t think any less of you. I love that you have a treasure collection!” 

Gilbert set the bucket down and took her other hand, “I _do_ know, Anne. You bring out the playfulness in me and...well...sooo many feelings, and I’m very happy about it.” He kissed her, “See, completely sentimental. Not ashamed at all. Sorry about my reaction before. Yes, I kept the treasures. And there may even be a souvenir shell from your story club that travels with me to Toronto.” 

Anne looked up at him feeling very loved and very in love. “Really?” she asked with a little smile. 

He returned the smile and nodded, “Really”. They stood like that for a few moments, just looking happily into each others’ eyes.

Anne broke the stare to take a step back and cross her arms, feigning annoyance, “Look, this isn’t going to work if you keep turning out to be more perfect every time we meet. Occasionally, I’m going to need to be righteously indignant with you, and it just isn’t as satisfying if there’s nothing for me to be indignant about after all!”

Gilbert laughed and started to answer, "I'm hardly..." but his eyes were drawn to the clifftop behind Anne, where the beach road was visible. “Oh, no!” he groaned.

“What?” Anne turned around to look. There was a wagon on the road, and it was clearly headed in the direction of the clam bake. “More people coming? Why are you...oh.”

Thomas Lynde drove the wagon, and Rachel Lynde sat beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is adapted from a line in "Aurora Leigh" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments for the first chapter of this, and thank you to everyone who encouraged me to continue! I think I decided I would after maybe the second "yes, do it", because I haven't written fiction in a while, and it turns out I really missed it. I don't know how many chapters this will be, but I've got ideas for several more. Hopefully I can get them up faster, now that I have an idea where this might go.


	3. Whither Thou Goest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clam bake continues. The Lyndes' arrival changes things a bit. Even in 1900, Gilbert reminds us to wash our hands!

By the time Anne and Gilbert arrived at the pit, Rachel Lynde was chatting with Moody’s grandfather Amos, and Thomas Lynde was helping himself to any pastries within reach. The teens had fashioned tables from sawhorses and wooden planks, then covered them with colorful tablecloths. Several of the girls stood around one table, chopping vegetables. Thomas and the desserts were at another table. “Don’t spoil your appetite, Thomas!” Rachel called. He smiled, nodded, and winked at her, though his mouth and both hands were full of goodies.

Anne turned to Gilbert and handed him the shovel, “Looks like they’re staying.”

Gilbert nodded and shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to make the best of it. There might be fewer libations,” he raised an eyebrow in Mr. Lynde’s direction, “and pastries…”

Anne laughed, “Yes, that is a tragedy. Still, we’ll spend the whole evening with our friends. Together.” She smiled up at him, then sighed, “At any rate, I’ve got onions to chop.” She began to walk towards the quilt she and Diana had spread, but Gilbert called her back.

“Wash your hands before you touch food, please. I’ve set up -”

“But we washed them after we dug. I haven’t touched anything dirty since.”

“Uh, yeah. Trust me; once you’ve looked into a microscope and seen the hundreds of minuscule monsters that swim around within a few drops of seawater, it’s impossible to assume that’s clean enough.” His nose wrinkled.

“Really?” Anne’s eyes went wide, “What do they look like? Could you sketch them for me? To think - tiny tragedies and comedies have been playing out on our beaches all this time, and I never knew it. I mean, I’ve thought about the fish and seals and whales and, of course, mermaids, but a whole universe in a cup of seawater?”

Gilbert chuckled, “Yes, I can sketch them for you. But the point is I don’t want to eat them tonight. I set up some soap and water on that table,” he pointed awkwardly with the hand holding the shovel. 

Anne saw the jug of water and nodded her agreement, “All right, Doctor Blythe. I will wash before chopping”. She smiled and patted his cheek, then looked at her hand. “Oh, sorry.” 

He laughed and shook his head, “It’s okay. Have fun with the onions,” and he set off to take care of the clams. 

Anne dutifully washed her hands, then fetched her basket and joined the other girls at their table. She had to lift out the platters of pastries in order to get to the vegetables, but was very careful not to let Mr. Lynde see them before she could tuck them back in under their napkins. 

Josie was explaining to Diana, “We have it tuned regularly because Mother was once told she has a very good ear, and now she thinks it gives her a headache to hear it off-key. But I refused to continue lessons this summer, and I definitely never played piano for the fun of it,” she rolled her eyes, “so nobody really uses it. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“Thank you so much!” Diana exclaimed, “Mother insists she likes to hear me practice even in her sick bed, but Father won’t allow it. Really, I think he’s using her illness as an excuse because he likes a quiet house.” She paused for a moment, thinking, then,”To be fair, Minnie May won’t stick with any instrument long enough to be proficient, so Father has had to endure some truly horrible noise over the years.” All the girls laughed at this.

“Not one of my sisters has an ounce of musical talent!” Ruby declared, “Although, we can at least find the right notes to sing.” She looked pointedly at poor Charlie, who was still at his post next to the pit. The girls all turned to look at him, but he was completely oblivious to the attention.

“It’s not his fault,” Mrs. Lynde startled everyone by interjecting. She had suddenly appeared next to Anne. “There never has been a Sloane who could hold a tune. It really is remarkable in such a large family. Not a single one of them can sing. It must be something about the vocal cords.” She turned to Anne, “Maybe Gilbert would know. Has he ever seen actual vocal cords? Do they have those medical students chopping up cadavers?”

“I...I...don’t know,” Anne stammered, “It hasn’t come up in any of our conversations. I guess you’d have to ask him”.

“Hmmm,” Rachel looked disappointed, “Well, at least we can trust that the dearly departed in Avonlea are safe from any educational exploration by young Mr. Blythe. I don’t think he’s at all the type to go digging people up to satisfy his curiosity, thank heavens. It was quite the brouhaha the last time that happened here!”

Ruby had been watching Rachel in wide-eyed horror, and dropped her knife at the last sentence, turning so pale that Diana quickly put an arm around her, just in case. “The last time?” she whispered. 

All eyes were on Rachel, and she looked around the group, “Oh, yes, I suppose you all are too young to remember that.” Then, glancing down at the table, “Well, let me help with the vegetables. Does anyone have a knife I might use?”

There was utter silence for a beat, then Anne shook herself, “I do,” she rummaged in her basket, “but I’m not going to sleep a wink tonight if you don’t finish that story!” 

Ruby’s shaky voice chimed in, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight either way. But yes, please, tell us!” 

Rachel started chopping as soon as the knife was in her hand, but Anne was sure she saw a twinkle in her eye as she began, “Well, I suppose it is an interesting tale. And, come to think of it, involves the Sloane family. Although, really it is challenging to tell any tale about Avonlea that doesn’t include them. Or the Andrews’,” she glanced up at Jane, who shrugged apologetically. 

“It must have been about fifteen years ago now. Maybe twenty. Not long after harvest, there had been a terrible flu sweeping through Avonlea. It seemed like the whole town was sick at once; Dr. Price was so overwhelmed he brought in a nephew who had medical aspirations but very little experience.” She paused her chopping to put the hand holding the knife on her hip and gaze up vaguely at the sky, “No bedside manner at all, that boy. And so pale. Looked like he’d been sent from the other side to escort you to your eternal reward, rather than get you back on your feet. When he came to look after my Eliza, I decided after about five minutes that my mother’s and grandmother’s remedies would do just fine after all. Poor Eliza had a rough couple of days, but once she was recovered she thanked me for sparing her that Price boy’s ministrations. Thomas thought we should have given him a chance,” she shook her head, “That man has too much empathy for his own good!” 

That declaration sent her back to slicing. “Well, most of the hearty and young eventually got well, but we lost several of our elderly or frail citizens. And too many babies...I don’t think I’ve ever had to wear black as often as I did that fall. Thankfully, the weather hadn’t been as frigid as some years, so the ground wasn’t frozen, and we were able to lay them all to rest in good time.”  
  
“Some of us might have been in too much of a hurry to bury our own, though. Shortly after Grace Sloane’s funeral - that would be a great, great aunt of Charlie’s - her husband Aaron remembered that her wedding ring had belonged to several generations of Sloane’s, and was meant to be passed on to a granddaughter. We tried to reason with him that it wasn’t worth digging up poor Grace’s fresh grave, but nothing would deter him. He was in near hysterics, begging his dear, departed grandmother for forgiveness and weeping like a child. I was so frustrated with him at the time - I remember thinking he owed Grace the respect of letting her finally rest after all those years of working her to the bone, but in the end I suppose his mulishness was providential. If he hadn’t insisted, we might never have known.” She finished the carrot she was working on, then set down her knife and looked up at the girls. “When the last clods of earth were shoveled off the coffin, it was clear that it had been broken into. There was no ring on Grace’s finger for Aaron to retrieve, because Grace was gone. Her clothes were there, but not her body.”

She dropped her eyes to look down at the table, selected a potato, and started back to work. The girls looked around at each other, but their hands were still.

“What happened to it?” Tillie breathed.

“That’s exactly what we all were wondering. Grace was such a meek creature; she didn’t have an enemy in the world. And that ring was certainly not worth the bother; her boots probably would have fetched more at the pawn shop. At first, we were in quite the quandary. Who would have dug up Grace Sloane? But people are people, and it wasn’t long before the town was thick with theories and suspicion. Of course, many of those who had recently buried loved ones were worried that their graves might be empty, too. Thankfully, nobody else actually went to the bother to check. It was a very dark time in Avonlea’s history - that’s for certain!”

“After a couple of days, with Aaron and his family nearly beside themselves to find the body, and nobody in town talking about anything else, a significant majority suspected Mabel McLeod.” Rachel looked around the group, “None of you young people would remember her. She was just a bit older than you are now at the time.” She paused to shake her head, “She was odd; one of Avonlea’s eccentrics. She lived by herself in the house where she grew up, tucked back in the woods south of town. Her parents died of Scarlet Fever when she was very young, so a pair of great aunts raised her. I know how one of those aunts was related to her, but the other was more of a mystery. I never could work out the connection... Anyway those two old recluses lived together their whole lives, and since Mabel joined them as a wee thing, I suppose it’s not surprising that she picked up some unconventional habits. She never attended the school; her aunts refused to send her. Poor child must have been so lonely! I thought for certain that once the old ladies passed away she’d jump at the chance to make friends in town, but she ended up keeping to herself back at the farm almost as much as she had when they were alive.”

“Well, you can imagine how surprised we were then, when she started showing up wherever the Price boy was sent to tend patients. She followed him around like a puppy. Most of us figured she’d decided it was time to find a husband - an aspiring doctor from out of town would be quite the catch. But then when the flu had run its course and Doctor Price finally sent the boy home, Mabel tried to follow the old man on his rounds instead. It turned out she wanted to be a doctor, too. Imagine! In those days, it was even more scandalous than it would be now. I don’t think any of the medical schools admitted women.” 

She stopped short and looked Anne up and down. “I suppose there are women in Gilbert’s classes now?”

“Yes. Just as there are men in mine.” Anne retorted. “One of Gilbert’s mentors is a female doctor, in fact. But...the medical school - UNfortunately - is not co-ed. There’s a separate school for women. I’m sure that will change before long!” She eyed Rachel icily, as if daring her to respond.

“Well,” Rachel held Anne’s gaze for a moment, then turned back to the other girls, “At any rate, Doctor Price was not putting up with any of Mabel’s notions. He sent her away, and she went right back to her solitary life. So, when a corpse disappeared so soon after, people naturally wondered if she might have decided to take her medical education upon herself.”

Anne, of course, had constructed an image of Mabel as Rachel spoke. She was a kindred spirit; a fellow orphan with ambition who was cared for by two elderly women and kept company with nature. Anne was not at all surprised that the town’s suspicion would fall on a person - more precisely, a woman - who had so blatantly lived her life without needing any of them. She imagined that Mabel’s aunts, undoubtedly bound together as Aunt Jo and Gertrude had been, encouraged Mabel to be independent and to follow her dreams. They must have given her a broad education there at the farm. Their days would have been filled with exploring the woods and baking delicious things and reading every book they could get their hands on - surely, this farmhouse must have had an extensive library - and entertaining each other with recitations and storytelling and music and art and…

She imagined that the ladies had died within days of each other, but not before reassuring Mabel that she had enriched their lives infinitely, and that they would be watching over her, believing in her, and loving her until she could join them in Heaven. So, Anne thought, Mabel had mourned them and missed them every day, but was determined to live up to their high expectations. She’d read every medical book in the house, and practiced on the injured animals she occasionally ran across, as well as herself. When she heard about the doctor’s apprentice, she summoned all her courage and sought him out, excited to learn what she could from him. Of course Avonlea had assumed all her aspirations were romantic! And of course they would suspect her, because she didn’t fit their limited expectations, and they didn’t understand her.

“But they were wrong, weren’t they Mrs. Lynde?” Anne demanded, “Mabel didn’t do it, did she?”

Anne was surprised to see Rachel’s eyes soften. “No, Anne, she didn’t. I was one of three ladies who went to confront her. She met us at the door, and when she heard why we were there, she looked so confused and then so very, very tired. I’ll never forget her face. I didn’t even need to ask a single question to know she hadn’t done anything. We made a weak attempt to convince her that we were going door to door asking everyone if they’d seen anything. She politely assured us that she would let us know if she did, and closed the door on us. I’m sure she knew what we’d been thinking. When we told Aaron Sloane that it couldn’t have been her, he thought she’d bewitched us. He was about to send another group after her. This time, he said, some clear-headed men with shotguns would be sure to get to the bottom of the thing.” She sighed, “Just like a man.”

“And what did they find?” Josie demanded.

Rachel shrugged, “Nothing; they never went. The very next day, Jonas Andrews rode into town with the bodies of Grace Sloane, Frank Pigot, and Matilda Rogers. It turned out that a couple of young men from Carmody had heard that the new medical school in Halifax would pay handsomely for cadavers, no questions asked about how they were procured. The boys had been caught boarding the steamship at Charlottetown, when one of the barrels fell off the back of their wagon.”

“Barrels?” Diana asked, confused.

Mrs. Lynde hesitated. “Well, yes.” She looked around the group, “You can’t...er...transport a dead body without some kind of...preservative.”

Several of the girls gasped. “So,” Diana started, “the bodies were in barrels of…”

Mrs. Lynde cleared her throat, “Well...moonshine”.

Jane snorted.

After a brief, awkward silence, Rachel looked down at the table and clasped her hands, “Ah, me, it looks like we’re done with the vegetables! And here are the boys with the clams now. Let’s get this clambake started, shall we?” All heads turned to see which of the boys were bringing up their buckets; then the girls grabbed their full bowls and set off to join them.

Only Anne and Rachel remained at the table. “I wish I would have remembered some of the unfortunate details of that story before I began it,” Rachel muttered.

“Mrs. Lynde,” Anne pleaded, “what happened to Mabel? You said none of us ‘would have’ known her. Where is she now?”

“Yes, well,” Rachel looked down at her hands, and then up at Anne, “We don’t know, actually. I went to her house later that year to invite her for Christmas dinner. I suppose I wanted to soothe my guilty conscience, if I’m being completely honest. But it had occurred to me that she might miss her aunts at the holidays. When I arrived, the house was all boarded up. She was gone. No one had seen her leave. We never saw or heard from her again.”

The two women stood in silence for the space of a couple of breaths. Anne sighed, “I hope she’s happy somewhere. Doing all the things she’d dreamed of doing.”

Rachel smiled sadly, “I hope so, too.”

For the rest of the evening, Mrs. Lynde seemed determined to bring back the sense of carefree cheer that a clambake warranted. She did sniff out the rum some of the boys had brought and poured it unceremoniously onto the beach where the waves would soon wash it out to sea (Anne wondered if Gilbert’s tiny sea creatures would be set drunk, and what kinds of games they might be playing at an impromptu underwater party) but apart from this, Rachel encouraged and even joined in with the young people’s shenanigans. 

Once the clams were properly done, everyone filled their plates and took them back to the blankets to eat. Gilbert and Charlie joined Anne and Diana. 

Between bites, Anne asked Charlie, “Do you know anything about your great, great aunt Grace?”

Charlie thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t know anything about a Grace. There are too many aunts and uncles and cousins to keep track of too far back, though. Why do you ask?”

Anne exchanged a glance with Diana, who seemed a bit green, “Oh, Mrs. Lynde told us a story involving her. Nothing we need to discuss over dinner, though.” She put her hand on Diana’s, “Sorry”. 

Diana shook her head weakly, “It’s not that. I’m just suddenly feeling a little...odd.” She set her plate down. 

Gilbert set his plate down, too, and looked at her, concerned. “Your eyes look glassy, Diana. May I check your pulse?” She nodded and held her arm out. While Gilbert was counting heartbeats, Anne put the back of her hand against Diana’s forehead. 

Charlie continued to eat, but very quietly, trying not to disturb the little drama playing out in front of him.

Gilbert released Diana’s arm and locked eyes with Anne, who said, “She’s very warm”. 

He nodded, “Quick pulse, too.”

Anne turned to Diana, “You have a fever.”

“Nooooo,” Diana wailed. “I felt fine till just a few minutes ago! I don’t want to be sick;I’ll miss all the fun!” She put her head in her hands, “Oh, but I really don’t feel well now.” 

Anne scooted over next to Diana and put an arm around her shoulders, “We’d better get you home, then. Even _I_ think there’s too much fresh air on the beach for someone with a fever.” Diana gave a weak little laugh.

Gilbert started to get to his feet, but Charlie was faster. “I can take you, Diana,” he volunteered as he jumped up, “I brought our wagon,” Diana looked up at Anne, then at Charlie, and nodded her head.

Anne helped Diana put on her shoes and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Charlie pulled her up by the hand and offered her his arm to hold onto. 

“Oh,” Anne stood and gave Diana a hug, then a kiss on the forehead, “Get some sleep and feel better soon! I’ll collect your things and bring them over tomorrow, so I can check up on you.” Diana nodded again and leaned on Charlie. His eyes flitted over to his plate. 

“We’ll make sure there’s food left for you when you get back,” Gilbert assured him, “Thanks for giving her a ride.” Charlie nodded, and led Diana away. 

All their friends nearby noticed the pair walking towards the wagons, and turned to Anne and Gilbert for an explanation. “She’s not feeling well,” Anne called out.

She plopped back down on the blanket, “Oh, that’s disappointing. I hope she doesn’t get as sick as her mother did. We have so many plans for this week!” When she turned to look at Gilbert, he seemed worried. “What?” Anne demanded, “She’s got a strong constitution; she never gets very sick. Even this past fall, when that head cold had the rest of us miserable for days, she just sneezed a couple of times and looked exquisitely flushed.”

Gilbert shook his head as he watched Charlie and Diana walking away, “I’m not worried about Diana. She should recover quickly. It’s just that now we have two Barry’s and a MacPherson coming down with some illness that includes a fever. I hope it’s not going to become something bigger.” His gaze followed Charlie handing Diana safely into the wagon, and then returned to Anne, who now looked thoroughly alarmed. He hurried to reassure her, taking her hand, “Sorry, it’s all the epidemiology I’ve been studying. Three cases are really too few to make any kind of predictions.” He squeezed her hand, and then released it to pick up his plate again, “Let’s change the subject. What’s this story Mrs. Lynde told you about Charlie’s relative?”

Anne thought for a moment, then laughed darkly, “Well, it starts with a terrible flu that ravaged Avonlea about twenty years ago…”  
_______

As the sun was setting, everyone folded up their blankets and gathered around the fire. Mrs. Lynde had insisted earlier that all the dinner mess be cleaned up straight away and the wagons be loaded before any other activities began. “I imagine it will be late, and you’ll all be very tired when it’s time to go home. You’ll thank me then that you don’t still need to gather your things.” She had also assured Amos that she and Thomas had the chaperoning under control, and Moody drove his drowsy grandfather home.

He returned with his banjo, and others produced a fiddle, flute, and harmonica. First, they had a singalong. The young people sang every song (that wasn’t a hymn) they could think of. They finished with a parody of “After the Ball”:

After the ball was over, after the break of morn,  
After the dancers' leaving, after the stars are gone;  
Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all;  
Many the hopes that have vanished, after the ball.

After the ball was over, Bonnie took out her glass eye,  
Put her false teeth in the water, hung up her wig to dry;  
Placed her false arm on the table, laid her false leg on the chair;  
After the party was over, Bonnie was only half there!

As the next verse began, Thomas Lynde pulled Rachel up, laughing, and started swinging her around the beach in a waltz. 

Gilbert stood and held his hand out to Anne, “What do you say, Carrots? Want to show me some of what you’ve learned in Charlottetown?”

Anne put her hand in his and he pulled her up. “Finally!” she teased, “after all that practicing with Island boys, just so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself with my Toronto beau!”

Gilbert laughed, “I have picked up a few things in Toronto, but I think it’s the steps I learned from Bash that you should really worry about.” He spun her around so that she ended up chest-to-chest with him, both their arms wrapped around her.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“Arm’s length, please,” Rachel called. 

Gilbert and Anne each took a quick step back, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

Most of the young people joined in the dancing. There were waltzes, jigs, polkas and riotous dancing games. Even Ruby jumped in for a few of these. When the musicians needed a break, they would play party games or tell stories. Mrs. Lynde revealed that one of Tillie's uncles had joined the circus for a season before enrolling at Redmond and becoming a minister. She also told the tale of Josie's parents' courtship in which a very young Mr. Pye tried to impress his sweetheart by swallowing three live minnows, but then was surprised by the way they squirmed in his mouth, and spit them right onto her boots.

When the group decided to play a round of "The Devil or Old Scratch", the Lyndes' graciously decided it was time for a quick turn around the beach. In the course of the game, it was revealed, amongst other things, that Moody would rather drink Paul's dirty bathwater than take the Queens entrance exam again, and that Josie would rather wear pants in Charlottetown for a week than kiss any boy in Avonlea. Anne thought there really was no downside in that choice, as long as she got to pick which Avonlea boy got kissed. As soon as the Lyndes' returned, the dancing began again.

Anne and Gilbert were partners for every partner dance. Sometimes one had to teach the other the steps. Now and then neither knew, so they improvised. There was quite a bit of tripping and stumbling and confusion (they were hardly alone in this). But there was also a good deal of hand-holding, and intense eye contact, and stopping to catch a breath after laughing so hard.

Late in the evening, the musicians were growing tired, and the harmonica player offered to play a solo. The song he played was gentle; almost mournful. Mr. and Mrs. Lynde had been sitting for the past several dances, and Rachel was now propped against Thomas, snoring. He covered her ears and proclaimed, “We’re almost done here. For now, enjoy yourselves, but stay where I can see you.” Some of the dancers returned to sit by the fire, while others walked up to the wagons to leave, or down towards the beach for a stroll in the moonlight. 

Gilbert turned to Anne, “Ready to go? I know Bash had big plans for the potatoes tomorrow; I doubt I’ll get the chance to sleep in.”

Anne nodded, “Let’s just say goodbye to the ocean first.” She reached for his hand, and led him down to the water. The moon had just passed full, so there was plenty of light. Away from the smoke of the fire pit, the air was cool and fresh. Anne felt grateful to be young and alive on such a night. “Gilbert, look at that silver line on the surface of the waves. It’s just like a pathway. Shall we find out where it leads?” 

“Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.” Gilbert quoted, “But not tonight, I think.” He turned to face her, and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “I believe you may be capable of walking on water, Anne, but you’re going to have to spend a little more time teaching me before I can follow.”

Anne was still a little surprised every time Gilbert showed the depth of his admiration for her, but she was learning just to soak it in. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a gentle but insistent kiss, then smiled intently up at him. He held her tight against him and kissed her again. When she finally, reluctantly, pulled away, he gave a shaky little laugh, “Besides, there are those potatoes to think of.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the bible, KJV, Ruth 1:16
> 
> So much for getting chapters up faster. I'll try to do better. Thank you so much for reading, and for leaving kudos and comments!


	4. The Intuitive Art of Wooing Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avonlea is sick with a k. Gilbert's free afternoon with Anne leads to playing doctor, but not in a fun way. A little drama, and a lot of Dr. Blythe's bedside manner.

Gilbert Blythe was tired. More accurately, Gilbert was dead-on-his-feet exhausted. It was barely dawn on his third straight day with only a couple of hours of sleep each night, and he was just now coming home. First, he was stopping at Green Gables to check on Anne.

Green Gables was in fact where it had all started about two weeks ago. The Blythe / Lacroix farm was running smoothly. The potatoes had been harvested, apples were growing well, and the weeds in the barley fields had been cleared. Gilbert was delighted to find himself with a wide-open afternoon, and he was hoping that Anne would be able to spend it with him. There were a few places they had yet to explore; they’d just added Mabel McLeod’s farm to the list.

So he’d strolled over to Green Gables, where he found Anne in the yard hanging laundry. She was intently focused on pinning a wet nightgown to the line by its shoulders, but she heard his footsteps on the gravel. When she saw who was approaching, her smile radiated from her lips to her eyes and straight to Gilbert’s ever-grateful heart. He took a breath, then exaggeratedly looked all around the farmyard, as if searching for spies, “Hi Anne! Anybody else home?”

“Yes, Gilbert,” she laughed, “everybody’s home, but you’re in luck, because I just hung all these sheets…” She reached out to slide her hands under his open vest, grabbed his suspenders, and pulled him in amongst the billowing fabric where only their feet would be seen from outside. Of course, anyone seeing even that little glimpse would have likely been scandalized by how close those feet were to each other; practically toe-to-toe.

Gilbert didn’t care what any onlookers might think, because his arms were around Anne and her arms were around him, and they were kissing as if they’d been apart for days, even though they’d seen each other yesterday when Anne and Marilla had taken surplus greens from their garden over to Hazel (really just an excuse to play with Delly). When they came up for air, Gilbert rested his forehead against Anne’s and breathed, “Please, can’t you transfer to U of T? Every time I feel so close to perfectly happy, this stupid part of my brain has to go and remind me how short the summer is.”

“Gil…”

“No, no, I don’t really want you to.” He took a step back, but held onto her hands, “I mean, I do, but I know you’ve got your life there at Queens, and I know you don’t want to be even farther away from Matthew and Marilla. I really do understand,” he looked at her with a half-smile. “I’m sorry - I’ll try to be better at just appreciating every moment of this summer.”

“You could always transfer to Queens...” she joked.

“Yeah, I’m considering it.” he said.

She smiled. “You don’t mean that, and even if you did I wouldn’t let you. No, stop it. Right this minute I’m here; you’re here...why are you here?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Well, there’s a tiny lull in the farm-work, and I’ve escaped for the afternoon. I thought you might have some creative ideas for what I should do with this gift of time.”

“Oh, yes, I’m positive I can help with that! Just let me hang the rest of this laundry.”

Gilbert picked up the basket. They walked away from the sheets and towards an empty span of clothesline, where Anne hung a sock. “How very providential that you arrived just as I was finishing the last of it.” and another sock. “I hate laundry day, so I thought I’d try to get it over with as quickly as possible.” Then a chemise, followed by two towels. “There. Done!” They started walking towards the house, “I was going to work on the article Miss Stacy asked me to write for the Avonlea Gazette, but I’d be happy to set that aside for the afternoon to go on an adventure with you!”

“The article about the Suffrage movement in Charlottetown? How’s that coming?”

“Quite well, thank you! I think the easiest things to write are retellings of my own experience. I do miss the newspaper archives at the Queens’ library, though. It would have been better if I had direct quotes for-”

“Gilbert!” Anne and Gilbert turned to see Jerry just coming in the gate. He jogged towards them, calling out, “Gilbert, hello! May I talk with you?”

“Hello, Jerry. Of course, what’s wrong?”

Jerry looked at Anne, then back at Gilbert, “I...I’m sorry to bother you, but...it’s my sister. And my mother, actually. Mostly my sister.”

“Oh, no, Jerry! One of your sisters is sick, too?” Anne asked, alarmed.

Jerry nodded, “Yes, Sandie. Worse than Maman. She has a very bad fever. She was, um,” he held his hands out, palms facing each other, and shook them quickly, “...shivering? All night last night.”

Gilbert furrowed his brow, “I’m not a doctor yet, Jerry. There’s a lot I don’t know. Have you called for a real doctor?”

“Yes, it’s why I am so late coming here today.” he shook his head, “There are none who can come. They are busy with rich people. Too many are sick right now.” Gilbert and Anne exchanged a glance, and Jerry continued, “I am sorry. But when I saw you are here, I thought you might help.”

Gilbert nodded, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll try, anyway.”

Anne took the basket from Gilbert’s hands, “I’ll come along. I’ve got lots of experience with sick children. I’ll just go tell Marilla...Oh, will you need any supplies? Would we have the things you need here?”

Gilbert put his hand to his chin, “Uh...depends. Maybe we can gather some things on the way. Or after I’ve seen Sandie and have more of an idea what might help. A basket, for sure. Do you have any sarsaparilla? And honey?”

Marilla was busy in her sewing room, and the three of them entering at once surprised her. As soon as she heard their intent, however, she was eager to help gather the supplies they brainstormed. She insisted that they should take the wagon, and Jerry headed out to hitch up the horses.

“Do you want to bring ipecac?” Anne asked.

“I think there are some herbs I’d prefer if we need an expectorant. Thought there’s a chance we won’t find them...maybe bring it along just in case.”

“Spearmint?”

“Sure. Do you have any elderberries?”

“I made syrup,” Marilla rummaged around the shelf, and pulled out a bottle, “just as you advised, Gilbert. I think it made a big difference when I had that cold in February.” She smiled as she handed it to him.

“I’m so glad! I was taking some as a preventative when the flu was going around my boarding house, and I never did get sick. But that could be coincidental.” He tucked the bottle in the basket.

“All right,” Anne clasped her hands and looked around, “that’s all I can think of. Anything else from you?” she looked at Gilbert.

“Nope. I’d really like to find some pussy willow on our way. Maybe red clover. So keep an eye out. But I think that’s all we can gather here. Thank you so much, Marilla!”

“I just hope Sandie and Mrs. Baynard get well soon! Goodness, I feel like I’ve been saying that about too many people lately.”

The ride to Jerry’s home was quick, though there was one brief delay when Anne nearly caused an accident. She was mid-sentence sharing her thoughts on the Charlottetown suffragettes when she suddenly grabbed Jerry’s arm, yelling, “STOP!” Jerry yanked on the reins and the horses stopped short.

“What?!” Jerry cried, looking all around them to see what had caused Anne’s panic.

Gilbert had been watching Anne as she spoke, and had seen her eyes widen when she spotted something in the marshy woods they were driving through. He swung himself down from the wagon, turning back briefly to explain to Jerry, “Pussy willow.”

Jerry rolled his eyes, and lamented to Anne, “Oh, no! There are two of you.” This caused Anne to grin immensely.

When they arrived at their destination, Jerry grabbed the basket and led the others into the small house. The interior was dimly lit, with just a few windows set in the thick wooden walls. It was warm and humid, and something herbal was bubbling over the fire. A middle-aged woman looked up from stirring the pot as the three entered. Anne had met all of Jerry’s family, but didn’t recognize her.

Mrs. Baynard dozed in a rocking chair next to the fireplace. On the floor by her feet, Sandie slept fretfully on a small pallet. Alice and Ella, Jerry’s other sisters, were kneading dough at the table. Anne smiled and waved at them. They smiled and waved back.

Jerry led Anne and Gilbert to his mother. He knelt down at her side and put his hand on hers. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up. “Maman, I brought help,” he informed her.

“Oh! Allo,” she said to Anne, “I did not expect to see you! But it is a nice surprise.” She glanced at Gilbert, then turned a questioning face to Jerry.

He shook his head, “The doctors are too busy. Many people are sick. This is Gilbert. Anne’s Gilbert.”

Mrs. Baynard nodded, “Oh, Gilbert, it is so nice to finally meet you!” She began to cough, and smiled apologetically when the fit passed.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Ma’am. I know I’m not what you were hoping for, but I did intern with Doctor Ward in Charlottetown for quite a while, and I’ve been at medical school for the past year.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Baynard smiled, “I have heard much about you. It’s wonderful that you have come to help us. Thank you!”

“Of course! I’ll do whatever I can. I understand you and your daughter have been ill? How are you both feeling today?”

“I’m much better, thank you. I’ve been able to sit up all morning. Just a little -” A coughing fit from Sandie interrupted the conversation. Gilbert watched the child, listening attentively.

“It’s Sandie I am worried about.” Mrs. Baynard continued, “Her fever has been so high! She will not eat because it hurts, and when she’s awake, she’s very uncomfortable.”

Gilbert nodded and gestured at the child, “May we?”

“Yes, please!” Mrs. Baynard said.

Gilbert knelt on one side of Sandie, while Anne sat on the other. Jerry set the basket next to Anne.

Gilbert looked up at Anne, and she took Sandie’s hand, “Hey Sandie,” she said softly, “It’s Jerry’s friend Anne. And another friend you haven’t met. His name is Gilbert. We’re here to help you feel better.”

The little girl didn’t open her eyes, but nodded weakly, then coughed again.

“Hi Sandie, I’m Gilbert. I’m going to hold your arm and check your pulse,” he murmured, and then did so. He asked Anne to light a lantern and bring it close, then peered inside Sandie’s mouth. He put his ear to her chest and listened to her breathe. He felt for the glands under her chin and palpated her abdomen, alerting Sandie about each thing he was going to do before he did it.

Gilbert sat back on his heels and looked up at Mrs. Baynard, “Her temperature’s not that high right now, I think. Definitely a fever, but not something that should cause convulsions.”

The woman by the fire had been watching Gilbert intently as he examined Sandie. Now she spoke up, “I gave her the tea this morning. The...pussy willow bark?” She spoke with an Acadian accent, much like Mrs. Baynard’s.

Gilbert nodded, and the woman looked relieved. He reached over Sandie, and pulled pussy willow from the basket, “Just what I had in mind,” he smiled. Then he pointed at the boiling pot, “Are you brewing something else now?”

She turned to look at it, “Yarrow and...ginger? A little other.”

Mrs. Baynard said, “This is Miss Michel. She is a sage-femme...ah...midwife?”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Then to Mrs. Baynard, “I don’t think you needed me after all. You seem to be in good hands”.

“Oh, no, no!” Miss Michel exclaimed, “I have not been to any school. You know much more. I only have what my grand-mère taught me. And what I have seen to help.”

Gilbert shrugged, “At school, I am mostly studying what causes illnesses, and how we might be able to prevent them. We do treat patients, but I’m finding out that some of our modern methods actually cause harm. There’s wisdom in many of the traditional methods. Sometimes, we know they work, but we still don’t know why.”

Miss Michel shook her head, “Sometimes they do not work. And you will find better ways.”

“I don’t know…” Gilbert hesitated, “I think right now I just want to learn all I can from anyone who is a healer. Maybe one day I’ll have something original to offer to the medical field”.

Anne piped up, “Maybe the two of you healers should compare notes on treatments and make some plans for Sandie.” She handed the basket of herbs to him.

Gilbert smiled at Anne, “I think that’s a great idea.”

They stayed at the Baynards’ for several hours, but excused themselves before dinner. Miss Michel and Gilbert had discussed remedies and signs to watch for. The midwife was staying the night to watch over Sandie, but Gilbert made Jerry agree to fetch him back at any hour, no matter how late or early, if Miss Michel thought he was needed. Otherwise, he promised to return in the morning.

The next day, Sandie was still miserable, but her fever had lowered more and she was able to sip broth and herbal teas. Gilbert visited briefly with Miss Michel, and was confident that he wasn’t needed there. On the third day, Sandie’s fever broke and though she was weak, she was clearly on the mend. Mrs. Baynard was feeling nearly well again, and Miss Michel had gone home. Gilbert’s visit was very brief. As he was leaving the house, a young woman addressed him just outside the door, “Excuse me, Doctor, but my baby is so sick! I hear that you helped the Baynards, and I was hoping you could take a look at him?”

“You understand that I’m not a doctor yet? I’m just a medical student.”

The woman nodded impatiently, “Yes, but there are no doctors who will come to my house. Please. I buried my daughter two years ago, and I will not lose my son!” she declared.

Gilbert nodded, “All right. Of course, I’ll see what I can do. Lead the way.”

And so it had begun.

For Gilbert’s part, he was glad to leave the farm work to Bash and Elijah. He felt less guilty about this when Jerry and his brother Alexander volunteered some time at the Blythe / Lacroix farm to repay him for his help with Sandie and their friends.

Gilbert was delighted to have received a telegram from Dr. Ward, agreeing to be the official physician on record for Gilbert’s cases if documentation were ever necessary. The doctor encouraged his one-time apprentice to continue - with caution - and offered to consult on anything he felt was over his head.

Gilbert was eager to experiment - very cautiously - with some of the ideas he had been developing through his studies regarding the body’s natural ability to heal itself. It was the practical experience he had been hoping for after a year of study. However, weariness was beginning to eclipse his excitement. The illness was at its height now (he hoped), and he barely had time to sneak up to his bedroom for a couple of hours of sleep each night, change his clothes, and head back out to his patients. And so on this third day with so little rest, Gilbert was exhausted.

Having been in sickrooms all around Avonlea, he had spent very little time at Green Gables. Marilla and Matthew both came down with very mild cases of the illness, and Anne had been busy nursing them. Then two days ago, just as her guardians were back on their feet, she fell ill. Her case also appeared to be very mild, and Gilbert was content to leave her under Marilla’s loving care, but he checked in on her when he could.

When he popped in yesterday, he found her in the parlor, wrapped in blankets and reading a book, suffering from only a low fever, headache, and congestion. Today he expected that Marilla would meet him at the door to assure him that Anne was still sound asleep in her room and send him on his way. Then he could finally ride home and collapse into his own bed for a little while. Oddly though, nobody answered his knock at the Green Gables kitchen door. He let himself in and then hesitated. He wanted to make his presence known, but didn’t want to disturb anyone who might still be asleep.

Fortunately, Marilla had been listening for the door, and within seconds she was stepping softly down the stairs to greet him. She looked relieved for a moment to see Gilbert, but her expression quickly became one of concern at the state of him. “Oh, Gilbert,” she bemoaned, “I wish I could send you straight home to sleep. You look like death warmed over!”

“It’s been a long night. But...you wish you could send me home? Why can’t you? What’s wrong? Does Anne need me?” he grew more anxious with each question, and was halfway to the stairs by the time Marilla could respond.

“I’m afraid the fever got much worse late yesterday afternoon. I was hoping she could sleep it off, and sent her straight to bed, but she was so restless all night. Lots of coughing. I’m not sure if she slept at all.” Marilla was following Gilbert as he strode quickly up the stairs to Anne’s room. “She’s been responding to me this morning, but just in nods and murmurs. I think she’s feeling miserable.”

Gilbert’s heart was in his throat. Rationally, he knew Anne was young and strong and likely to recover. It wasn’t easy for Gilbert to be rational about Anne, though. People had been dying from this illness - happily nobody under his care so far - but it was all he could think about. It was concerning that a fever that had been improving was suddenly spiking.

Anne’s bedroom door was open, so Gilbert stepped softly right up to her bedside and sat in the chair next to her. She was laying on her back, head propped up on pillows. Her eyes were closed, but her flushed face looked pinched.

“Anne, I’m here,” Gilbert leaned over and laid his hand gently on the side of her cheek. She opened glassy eyes that lacerated his heart with the misery looking out. She took in a ragged breath to speak, and immediately began coughing.

“Oh,” Marilla stepped closer.

Gilbert turned to the older woman with what he hoped was a reassuring look, “I left my bag on the horse. There are medicines inside. Would you mind getting it for me?”

Marilla nodded and left the room.

A sob escaped from Anne’s raw throat. Gilbert turned back to her, and she reached out for him. He wrapped his arms around her and was hit with a wave of heat from her fevered body as she wept against his chest.

“It’s awful,” she croaked through tears. “Please make it better. I hurt everywhere! All I want to do is sleep, but I can’t. All night, I just wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t get comfortable. Please Gilbert.”

“God, Anne,” Gilbert murmured, “I will, of course I will. Just hang on a little longer. We’ll have you feeling better very soon!” He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. Gilbert had never seen Anne in pain like this. He felt completely alert now, but he was terrified that his tired brain would fail him when he most needed to think clearly. For her. He’d just promised her; he couldn’t let her down.

Her sobbing became coughing again. Gilbert eased her back onto the pillows when the coughs subsided. She looked up at him, her eyes still pleading. There was a glass of water, a mug of tea that had long since gone cold, a basin of water, and a wet cloth on her side table. Gilbert helped her take a sip from the glass, but she grimaced as she swallowed, and refused to drink any more. He dipped the cloth in the basin and wiped her face and neck, very gently. She closed her eyes and seemed to relax a little.

Marilla came back into the room with Gilbert’s bag. He dug around in it and pulled out a handful of paper packets. When he had returned from caring for Sandie on that first day, which now seemed so long ago, he had prepared several jars of dried herbal mixtures. Each day before going out to see patients, he would portion out some doses into packets so they were ready to go.

This, he thought, was where it would be easy to make a mistake. Everything was labeled, and he was confident in his ability to remember which mixture was needed for which symptom. Yet as he handed them to Marilla, he asked, “Could you read each label to me, and I’ll tell you what it’s for and how to prepare it?”

She nodded and read the first one. It was for the fever, he was sure. The next was a cough suppressant. The third was pain relief. This was all good. Then she started to read another label. “No”, he held out his hand, “we don’t need that one after all.” It was for nausea, and that didn’t seem to be an issue here. Marilla placed the packet back in his palm, and he returned it to the bag.

“Okay, Marilla, before you go to prepare those, will you check over all of Anne’s skin to see if there are any rashes anywhere?” He looked her in the eyes, “Anywhere,” he repeated.

“All right, Gilbert. I’ll be thorough. But I might need you to repeat the instructions on the medicines when I’m done.” She picked up a pencil from Anne’s table. “I’ll write them down next time.”

Gilbert nodded and stepped out of the room. He rubbed his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep himself fully alert. Then he paced up and down the hallway. He couldn’t stop thinking about Anne’s eyes and his promise.

Marilla finally came out, “Well, that was wretched. She’s so hot. And now she’s shivering. But no rash anywhere.”

Gilbert nodded, “That’s good.” They went back into the bedroom and he sat next to Anne again. He held her hand and stroked her face, telling her quietly about his night, until she stopped shivering.

“Allright,” he said to Marilla, “let’s go over those medicines one more time.”

Marilla wrote Gilbert’s instructions on each packet as he repeated them, then set off to the kitchen to prepare them.

Gilbert took a breath and spoke to Anne with a shaky voice that none of his other patients had elicited, “Okay, Anne, I’m going to check you over now. Obviously you have a high fever; I don’t need any more evidence there. Can you show me the inside of your mouth?”

She opened her mouth, was overtaken by a coughing spell, and then opened it back up for him to see. The back of her throat was very red, but there were no spots. That was good, he thought. He felt the glands under her chin. They were swollen. That was not good.

“I’m going to check your lungs,” he told her, and laid his head on her chest. She startled him by slipping her fingers into his hair as he listened, and suddenly he was afraid he might weep, too. But he needed to pay attention; to hear if there was any fluid threatening to fill her lungs. Pneumonia would be bad. Once it settled in, it could be fatal even to a young and healthy person. He listened to a breath. And then another. Was that a wheeze? No. Or was it? If it was, it was very faint.

“Can you sit up so I can listen to your back?” She struggled to sit, and Gilbert hurried to help, slipping his arm behind her, “There you go. Perfect, thank you.” He put his knee on the bed, wrapping his left arm around her chest to hold her there, and laid his ear against her back. “Take a few deep breaths, if you can.” She breathed in once, and out; twice, and out. No - no wheeze, he thought, relieved. She took a third breath, but on the way out it turned into a whimper, so he helped her lay back down. “Okay, that’s enough. I don’t think I hear any fluid in your lungs, which is really good.”

She blinked away a few tears and nodded.

“Would you like me to wipe your face some more?” he asked. She nodded and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, as Gilbert was hanging a quilt over the curtain rod to block the morning sunshine, Marilla appeared in the doorway with a tray. “I think this is everything,” she said. “I’ll make some more broth today, and maybe a poultice for her chest?”

Gilbert nodded, “It couldn’t hurt.”

Anne had just begun to doze off, but was thwarted by another fit of coughing.

Marilla set the tray on the table and picked up the cold tea. She leaned over Anne and smoothed the damp hair back from her face. “Poor thing. It’s as if you took all the worst symptoms on yourself so Matthew and I wouldn’t have to. I know it doesn’t work that way, but it’s just the kind of thing that you would do. And I wish I could do it for you now.” She kissed Anne’s forehead, and Anne gave her a weak smile.

“All right,” Marilla straightened up and stepped toward the door, “I’m going to get Matthew’s breakfast, and start on the broth. If you need anything else, Gilbert, just yell.”

Gilbert nodded, and Marilla left the room. He finished with the window and came over in the much dimmer light to examine the items on the tray. Anne reached out to take his hand, and he gave hers a squeeze in return. “Well, this isn’t going to be fun, but it’s near guaranteed to make you feel better in the long run. Short-term long run, I promise.” He sat in the chair, still holding her hand, and looked into her eyes, “We’ll go at your pace, but I need you to trust me. It’s best if you take all the medicine. It doesn’t taste good, and I know it’s hard for you to swallow. I did ask Marilla to use plenty of honey in everything, which will help with both of those problems.” He helped her sit up.

Anne took a shaky breath and gave a small nod, “You know”, she whispered, “One day doctors will have softer hearts and will figure out how to make medicine taste like candy.”

Gilbert huffed out a weak chuckle and replied, “Many of us care deeply, which a wise woman once told me is an important character trait for a doctor. We just have to build those tough shields around our hearts of mush or we’d never be able to ask a patient in pain to do something unpleasant.” He had to steady his voice, “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, Anne. Not if I knew any other way.”

Anne burst into tears, “No, no, I know you wouldn’t. Of course I know that. Oh, I’m so sorry! I was just teasing a little. Ohhhh,” she pressed her palms against her eyes.

Gilbert had to brush away a few tears of his own, then began to rub her back, “Wow, look at us; we’re a mess!” he laughed.

“This is ridiculous,” she croaked, sniffling, “It’s just swallowing. I’ll be fine!”

They went very slowly, and eventually Anne had ingested everything that needed to be ingested. It was not easy. Anne took her last gulp with tears streaming down her cheeks, and then collapsed back against the pillows. “Rub my back some more?” she whispered and turned onto her side, facing Gilbert.

“Absolutely,” he began to gently trace circles on her back with his fingers, “Sleep now, Carrots,” he murmured, and bent over her to kiss her temple.

When Marilla came up a little later to ask if Gilbert wanted some breakfast, both were sound asleep. Gilbert’s left arm was across Anne’s back, and the other was under his head, which lay on the pillow just above Anne’s.

Marilla watched them sleep for a moment, then left them to rest. She did not close the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Art of Healing" by W.H. Auden
> 
> Apparently, we're going to visit every single character from the show by the time the summer ends. Variety is the spice of life, right?
> 
> This illness is entirely fictional, but I’m basing Anne’s symptoms on a bout of strep throat that probably would have killed me if it had been 1900.


	5. The Things One Never Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Blythe learns from a mistake. Anne makes her own. Jerry has a jolly good time, and Matthew...poor Matthew.

When Gilbert arrived at Green Gables several days later, he was initially confused by the sight of Anne on the porch. Or rather, the sight of her hair; it was almost all he could see of her. She sat with her head in her hands, elbows on knees. Her hair was loose, hanging gloriously down over everything and shining brightly under the summer sunlight. From the little else he could see, Gilbert noted that she was fully dressed in day clothes for the first time all week. He cleared his throat loudly and Anne’s hair flipped behind her as her head shot up. 

“Oh, ow!” Anne wailed, putting her hands to her brow, “that was a very bad idea.”

“Sorry,” Gilbert said as he sat beside her, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you!”

“Mmmm. My head - and my ears - still seem stuffed with cotton.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. Noticing Gilbert’s look of concern, she quickly clarified, “but I’m much better! Please, I’d like to see a different expression on your face than worry for a change. You can stop being my doctor now. I’m fine!”

Gilbert granted her request by raising an eyebrow and smirking, “Yes, I see. I would think relief would have been the expression you’d seen most on my face these last couple of days, but I’m glad you’ve got your energy back.” He couldn’t resist running a lock of her hair through his fingers. It was warm and slightly damp. “What are you doing out here?”

Anne began, “I just - ” but this triggered a coughing spell, which she thought incredibly unfair. She glared at Gilbert as she coughed, holding up a finger. He just shook his head and chuckled. 

“Anyway,” she resumed after clearing her throat, ”I just took a marvelous, decadent, sublimely luxurious bath and finally washed my hair. I thought it would be scrumptious to let it dry in the sun this afternoon, and it has been!” She put a hand to her scalp, “I think it’s dry enough now.”

Gilbert took a moment to recover from the mental image Anne's words had conjured and realized that he was certainly not thinking of her as a patient just now. Then he nodded, “Ah, very nice!” He lifted a hand to rumple his own hair, “Things that some of us don’t have to put much thought into.” 

Anne smiled at him, losing herself a bit in the spectacle of his newly tousled curls.

Her eyes returned to Gilbert’s as he spoke. “May I ask; do you brush it before or after you let it dry?”

“Both, actually. That is, I comb out the worst of the snags before. This,” she brandished the brush, “is for after.”

“All right then,” he held out his hand, “may I?”

“Oh,” Anne breathed, “Um...yes...okay,” she put the brush in his hand and turned her back to him. She was about to ask him to be careful, but the memory of his gentle ministrations throughout her illness was very fresh, and she doubted there was any need. Indeed, he began to run the brush through her hair slowly, tenderly, practically reverently.

For a split second, Anne worried that her racing pulse meant the fever might be returning. She quickly realized it actually meant that she was returning to full health, when Gilbert’s nearness and touch was reason enough to make her heart beat faster. 

“Wait,” she said suddenly, and Gilbert stopped brushing. She turned around to look at him, “It’s the middle of the day, and you have time to brush my hair? What’s going on? What about your patients?”

“Well,” he raised his eyebrows and gave a little nod, “I’ll go check on some of them later, but this morning I was given a lesson about swooping in to play the hero, and I ended up with some extra time on my hands.”

This did not clear up Anne’s confusion, which was obvious from her expression, so he told her the full story of his morning.  
___

Gilbert had risen early, as usual, and set out to see his patients. Many of them lived in the Baynards’ community, but word had spread and he was spending more and more of his day traveling between homes. He was hopeful that the epidemic was beginning to wind down. The number of people falling ill appeared to be slowly dropping, and a higher proportion of the people he looked after was now returning to full health. 

His first patient of the day was a new mother who had fallen ill before fully recovering from childbirth. He was worried about her. She seemed to have a relatively mild case of the illness, but was taking longer than most to improve. Her fever was light, yet she slept much of the day and her appetite was minimal. She barely spoke to Gilbert, or to anyone as far as he could tell. Her teenage sister-in-law was serving as nursemaid while she recovered. The girl was competent, but not very affectionate towards the baby. The child’s father, on the other hand, doted on his son. He worked long hours at the cannery, but the moment he got home and cleaned up, he carried the baby with him in a sling almost non-stop for the rest of the evening. 

When Gilbert entered the tiny home this morning, he was surprised to be met at the door by Miss Michel, baby in her arms. “Hello!” he greeted her, “What a lovely surprise! I heard that you delivered this one.” He bent over the baby, and stroked the velvety cheek with a gentle finger. 

“Oh, yes,” the midwife smiled, “the delivery was very easy. He is a good boy. I think he is not getting enough milk, though, with his mother sick.”

Gilbert’s brow furrowed, “Really? I have been so concerned about her, and the baby’s been so quiet, I hadn’t considered that. I’ll go in and check on her, and then we can talk about him?”

Miss Michel started to say something, but stopped herself. She looked up at Gilbert with her head tilted to one side for a moment, then shrugged and nodded.

Gilbert entered the small bedroom. “Good morning, Anna,” he said to the teen who was attempting to spoon porridge into her sister-in-law’s mouth. He turned to the young mother, “Hello, Mrs. Benoit.” He stepped around the bed, “having a little breakfast?”

“Very little,” Anna replied with a sigh as she dropped the spoon back into her bowl.

Gilbert looked at Marie Benoit, “I just spoke with Miss Michel, and I think both of us would like to see you eat a little more, if you can. For Nicolas’ sake.”

Marie looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Then she turned away from Gilbert to lay back down and closed her eyes.

Anna shook her head, “Well, it was maybe a little more than yesterday.” She stood. “We can leave her sleep. Miss Michel was in here. She will tell you what she thinks?” she looked up at Gilbert, then turned and walked out the door. 

Gilbert watched Marie for a moment. She wasn’t coughing or shaking or giving any indication of illness. She was just - sleeping. Again.

He returned to the main room. Anna had begun to clean up the breakfast dishes and Miss Michel was rocking baby Nicolas. He approached the midwife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had examined Mrs. Benoit, too.” 

Miss Michel shrugged. 

Gilbert continued, “I don’t know what to do for her anymore. What did you think of her condition? Do you have any ideas?”

“I have some thoughts,” she began, “But tell me what you’ve tried so far.”

The two launched into a discussion about Mrs. Benoit’s symptoms and general state. Gilbert was surprised by some of the things Miss Michel was asking him about, and chagrined that he hadn’t thought of them. 

“It seems her problems may be more about the aftereffects of childbirth than the illness,” he reflected. “That’s really your area of expertise, much more than mine. Would you like to take over this case?”

She gave him a half-smile, “I would like that very much, but...only if it is alright with you,” she hesitated, “...and if her husband will agree.”

Gilbert was confused, “Is there any reason he wouldn’t? If I tell him I’m fine with it? He must trust your skills. He called you in as midwife, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” She cleared her throat and looked at the baby, avoiding Gilbert’s eyes, “but that was before you started treating patients...without asking for payment.” 

“Oh, but the experience is more than enough payment!” he insisted, “It will serve me well when I go back to school this fall!” 

She sighed and looked directly at him, “Yes, Gilbert. I am aware that you do not need the money. But I have a different life. I live with my brother and his family. He cannot support me; I must earn my keep. I do some laundry and house cleaning as well, but the work I love is caring for the sick. Helping with childbirth, yes, but I am trusted as a healer, too...or I was.” She stood to carry the sleeping baby to a wooden cradle, and laid him down. Then she turned back to Gilbert, who had just realized the implications of what she was telling him, and stood with his mouth hanging open.

“It is not all your fault,” she assured him, “Not only you. The doctors in town have been telling my patients to stop seeing me. They say I have not been to school, and am only lucky that more have not died in my care. They say good medicine can only be learned in school. But,” she shrugged, “I could not go to school. Yet I know medicine.”

“So,” Gilbert summarized, “You were already losing patients to those arrogant blowhards, and then I came in and stole more by offering to treat them for free.” He sat down hard on a wooden bench and put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry Miss Michel. I didn’t even think of you.”

“Yes, I know,” she crossed her arms. “You young people sometimes forget that things you do can affect others, even if you don’t mean them to.” 

He sat for a while, his racing thoughts vacillating between berating himself for being so unaware and searching for some way to fix it.

Miss Michel could see that he was in distress, and softened her tone a bit. “It is good that you are excited to do something with your learning. You have learned things at your school that I didn’t know,” she said, “And it was...how is it?...generous?... not to ask these people for anything. But now that you know how that matters to me, what will you do?”

He thought for a while, then looked up at her, “What would you like me to do?”

She shook her head, “You have other patients to see today?” He nodded. “Maybe you can visit them, and think about what would be best. When you have an idea, talk to me. I will stay here this morning. In the afternoon, I will be home with my family. It is across the road from our blacksmith. You know where that is?” 

“Yes,” he answered as he stood, “I can find you.” He held out his hand, and she took it. “Thank you for being honest with me.” he said, “I am honored that you trusted me enough to tell me what an idiot I’ve been. I’ll think of some way to make things right!”

She smiled sympathetically, “You are very smart - no idiot. I will be happy to hear your ideas.”

As Gilbert rode to the next patient, he thought about what he might do. Of course, he was going back to school in October; he had only stepped in temporarily. Surely anyone he was seeing would go back to Miss Michel once he was gone. Then again, if any of them were listening to the town doctors’ views on the importance of a college education, his presence could have already been reinforcing these ideas, and they might trust the midwife’s skill less. 

He arrived at the home of Jerimiah Sloane. As far as he could work out, Jeremiah was a second or third cousin of Charlie’s, but much older. He lived with a nephew, who strode out the door to meet Gilbert as he tied up his horse, “Thank goodness you’re here! Uncle Jerimiah is not doing well at all today. He’s been tossing and turning and talking gibberish for the past three hours or so.” Gilbert nodded, “All right. Let’s see what I can do.” He followed the young man into the house.

Gilbert had his hands full for the next few hours. When he was with a patient, all of his attention was on them. As soon as he was back on his horse between patients, though, his thoughts turned to the dilemma of how to fix things with Miss Michel. After a visit to an elderly woman who seemed to want company and conversation more than any actual doctoring, he decided he was ready to find the midwife and see what she thought about the plan he had begun to formulate.

Miss Michel was just leaving the Benoits’ as he rode up. She seemed surprised to see him. “You have an idea for me already?”

“I think so,” he gestured for her to sit on a bench on the little porch, and then sat next to her. “What if we just talk through all my patients. Who I’m seeing, and where they are in the course of recovery. You can tell me what is a fair price for working with each of them - what they can afford without hardship, if possible -”

“Of course!” she held up her hands in protest, “I never ask more than is fair, or more than one can afford!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean…oh, I am not doing well today, am I?” he gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. “No, if you would please tell me what I should be charging, I’ll start charging it, so that won’t be a reason for people to call for me instead of you anymore. But we can also talk about which of my patients you’d like to oversee. Any you want. Maybe you can come with me on my rounds, and we can explain the change to them as we go? If anyone protests, I’ll tell them I’m just too busy.” He saw that the midwife looked uncertain. “That is not untrue...I’ve been run ragged. AND I’ll be needed back at the farm again before long. I can also be very clear with everyone about my faith in your abilities,” he looked to her for a reaction, “And about how much I’ve learned from working with you that I was not and never will be taught at medical school.”

She shook her head, “It is not much, I think.” Gilbert opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand to stop him and continued, “...but I like this idea. There will be some who would never have called on me anyway, and some who will just prefer you. So you will still have some doctor work to do, I am sure. But I think you may convince some of them to come to me again”

“All right then,” Gilbert clapped his hands together, “First, let’s talk about Jerimiah Sloane…”  
___

“And so,” Gilbert resumed brushing Anne’s hair as he concluded his story, “After we visited a couple of patients together, I left Miss Michel to minister to Harry Wilkes, who didn’t really seem to care which of us stayed, and came to see what you were up to.” 

“Rather than checking in to see if Bash needed you?” she teased.

He snorted, “You have discovered my priorities. I have no regrets!” He was silent for a moment, then spoke soberly, “Besides, I thought you might be a little more sympathetic to my confession of obtuseness. Bash would likely assure me it was no surprise to him, and start listing all my other failings.”

Anne giggled, then sighed, “I admit, I didn’t give a thought to Miss Michel either. I may have been a bit enamored with the idea of you as the hero of this story, myself.” She smiled, then had another thought that made her frown, “It's ridiculous that those doctors would see her as a threat or competition, rather than a valued colleague! It was their kind that kept medical school closed to women like her in the first place! But Gilbert, I think the most important thing was that when you realized the impact of what you had done, you worked to make it right. Other men would likely have argued that they were, in fact, better qualified to care for all the patients, and saints as well for doing it for free.” 

“When half of what they got twenty years ago in medical school has been proven wrong since anyway,” he grumbled, “It isn’t right that they are pushing Miss Michel out of the work she loves! I hope people will still go to her. I’m sure, at least, that she’s charging less than the town doctors.” He signed and kissed the top of her head, “And thank you for the support.”

“Of course,” she grinned, “I’m sure it won’t be long before I make another terrible blunder, and then you can return the favor.”

He chuckled.

They sat in silence for a little while. Anne closed her eyes, enjoying the sunshine and the rhythm of Gilbert’s hands in her hair.

After a few minutes, he asked softly, “Where’s Marilla?”

“Just gone over to Mrs. Lynde’s to work on a christening dress for that new grandbaby.”

“Ah, yes,” Gilbert murmured. He swept her hair all to one side and lightly kissed the newly exposed skin behind her ear. “And where are Matthew and Jerry?” His whisper at said ear sent goosebumps all over her skin.

She took a breath and whispered back, “Um, in...in the barn...I think”

“Hmmm,” he swept her hair to the other side and kissed the skin behind that ear, “Could come out at any moment, then?”

“Any moment,” she echoed, then gave herself a little shake, “In fact, I need to go prepare their tea. They’ll be coming to fetch it soon.”

Gilbert kept brushing, “Hmmm. So, you need to be in the kitchen? Where there is no Marilla, but there is an excellent view of the barn through the window?”

Anne laughed and got quickly to her feet, reaching down for Gilbert’s hand. He smiled at her as she helped him up and pulled him towards the door. 

As soon as they were inside, he put the brush down and tugged her over by the window, where the barn was in his direct line of sight. Or would be, if he wasn’t looking deep into the grey-blue of Anne’s eyes. He slid a hand under her now-silky hair to her back, and wrapped the other arm around her waist.

She put her hands on his shoulders and sighed, “Doctor Blythe was wonderful, but I missed you. I missed us. I missed this.” She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and then stretched up as he leaned down to meet her lips. 

After they had taken some time to get reacquainted with each other’s healthy / healthier selves, Anne leaned her head against Gilbert’s chest. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for taking such good care of me. I’m very lucky to have a doctor who cares about my well being possibly even more than I do.”

“Well, I can’t say that it was my pleasure,” he answered into her fresh hair, “You were by far my favorite patient, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t get sick like that again maybe ever- Oh, they’re coming.” Anne turned her head to look out the window. Matthew and Jerry were walking towards the house. 

“Oops, I’d better get the tea steeping.” She gave him a quick peck on the chin, “Would you mind grabbing a plate of scones?”

Gilbert’s stomach growled as he headed toward the pantry. Anne snickered. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, “I haven’t had a chance to eat anything since breakfast. I’m very excited about the prospect of scones!” 

The door opened and Matthew entered, heading towards the sink, with Jerry on his heels. “Anne,” he greeted her, then washed his hands, “Is that Gilbert’s horse?” He nodded out the window.

Gilbert emerged from the pantry with the scones, “It is! Hello, Matthew...Jerry.” 

“Hello, Gilbert. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“They usually take tea on the porch,” Anne instructed Gilbert, then turned to Matthew. “He’s turning over some of his medical responsibilities to our resident expert, Miss Michel, so he had a little free time.”

“That’s good!” Jerry said to Gilbert as he dried his hands, “You have been too busy. And I think she has been looking for more work.”

As Anne poured the tea into mugs and handed them to Matthew and Jerry, Gilbert confessed, “I hadn’t realized I was overstepping. People asked for my help, so I went to them. But I should have checked with her first.”

Jerry shook his head, “She was helping us, but we still wanted a doctor. She even told us to look for one. In case there was something she didn’t know that would help.” 

Anne picked up the mugs for her and Gilbert, and everyone made their way out to the porch.

“Yes, but we really should have been working together, like we did with Sandie,” Gilbert replied. He put the plate of scones on the bench beside Matthew, grabbing one for himself, took his tea from Anne with a "Thanks!", and sat on the step next to Jerry.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes while they ate, but Matthew suddenly looked up at Anne, then at Gilbert, then back at Anne. “Marilla still at Rachel’s?” he asked her.

Anne’s mouth was full but she nodded. Matthew’s eyes shot to Gilbert, then back to her. He cleared his throat.

“Hah!” Jerry, who had been watching this exchange with interest, laughed, “Don’t worry! They are so boring, they were probably just alphabetizing the herbs in the pantry this whole time!”

Anne rolled her eyes, “We are not boring! And that is certainly NOT what we were doing!”

Gilbert choked on his tea. Jerry laughed harder and smacked him on the back as he coughed. He gasped for breath, but soon his coughs were mingled with laughter.

Matthew’s lips twitched, and he avoided looking at Anne as she clamped a hand over her mouth and turned bright pink.

As soon as Gilbert had breath to speak, he wiped his eyes, stood, and set his mug next to the nearly empty plate of scones. His face might have also been a slightly pinker shade than normal. “Um, I do have a few more patients to visit this afternoon.” He nodded to Matthew and Jerry, “Good to see you both.” And then with a sheepish grin to Anne, “Thanks...for the...tea.” 

Jerry snorted.

Anne jumped up, “No, wait!” she looked at Matthew, then back at Gilbert. “Out here. Just for a minute.” She turned and went into the house.

“Well,” Matthew stood, “We should get back to work, too, Jerry.” He gave Gilbert a little smile and a nod, Jerry laughed some more, and then the two of them headed back towards the barn. Just as they stepped through the barn door, Anne was back on the porch with an only slightly pink face and a parcel wrapped in a napkin. She held it out to Gilbert, “I’m sure that scone wasn’t near enough. Take a little lunch on your way.” 

He smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips as he took it, “You are adorable. And I love you.” She kissed him back quickly, with an eye to the barn, “I love you, too.”

Gilbert walked to his horse as she watched him. He tucked the food in his bag and swung himself up into the saddle. As he waved goodbye, he called, “I still regret nothing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter was inspired by a line in "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads my little story! I do this for fun and for free, but I also appreciate every single kudo and comment.


	6. Too Occult to be Seen; Too Light to be Felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne goes to Gilbert for feedback on her article, but instead is enlightened by Hazel. More Delly, because we were way overdue!

Anne and Hazel sat over tea at the table. It was very quiet. Hazel was reading and Anne was savoring the thick slab of fresh bread, slathered with butter and honey, that she had been served. She was chewing very slowly to make it last, but also as a way to distract herself from anxiously watching for reactions on the older woman’s face. Still, the bread disappeared too quickly. Anne conjured up a mental picture of Mrs. Barry at tea and tried to imitate her.Take a tiny sip. Set the cup down delicately. Fold your hands on your lap. Look at your companion. Oh, no, that wasn’t going to work here...okay, look at…Gilbert’s jacket on the hook. Yes, that could be a distraction.

It was an old barn jacket; well-worn and mended in several places. Anne wondered if it had once been his father’s. She wondered how it smelled. She resisted the urge to walk over and find out. The sleeve she could see was frayed at the cuff. There was a small brown stain near the pocket. Was it blood? His blood? Farm work was notoriously hard on hands. There were always splinters, blades, even tough weeds or thorns about, lurking in just the right place to snag a busy finger. Anne thought of Gilbert’s hands. He hadn’t been doing enough farmwork yet this summer for them to be calloused or rough. They were still soft student hands, now sometimes doctor hands. She remembered his fingers checking her pulse, smoothing hair away from her fevered brow, reaching for her own hand, cupping her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her…

“He’ll be home soon,” Hazel interrupted. Having finished reading, she’d looked up at her guest, followed the girl’s eyes to the jacket, and made the obvious connection. “Maybe wait to see what he thinks? This,” she held up the papers covered in Anne’s handwriting, “is nothing about me, in truth.”

“But,” Anne protested, “No, I’ll get his opinion, but I want yours, too! It's about the vote for all women. You are a woman, as much as I am. Don’t you want to be allowed to vote? To elect people who will serve your interests?”

Hazel set the papers on the table and stood, shaking her head, “All women? I don’t think so. Not me at all. I am not a citizen.” She began to clear away the dishes.

“Oh,” Anne thought for a moment, then stood to help, ”I suppose that’s true. You would have to be a citizen. But if you were, what would you think? The intent is to secure the right to vote for _all_ women - who are citizens.”

“That is _your_ intent, maybe…” Hazel shook her head again and turned away from the sink to look at Anne, “It’s good writing. Your words are plain and your ideas are clear. I don’t believe I have read anything in our newspaper written better. I tell you this, no question.” She patted Anne’s arm and smiled. Her tone and expression did not invite further discussion.

“Thank you,” Anne smiled back, but this was not the feedback she’d been hoping for. Then it occurred to her, “What about Delly? She’s a citizen. Shouldn’t she have a say in the system she lives in?”

Hazel sighed, eyeing Anne, “In ten, twenty years? I hope many things for Delly, but people do not like change. Men will not want to give away their power. And...” She nodded at the papers on the table, “how many ladies at your meetings look like Delly?”

“Well...there aren’t...in Charlottetown...oh.” She sat back down, thinking frantically, then looked up at Hazel, who stood with a knowing look on her face. “Why didn’t I even notice that?”

“Because that is what normal looks like, to you.”

“Oh. I...I suppose it is. Especially at school. My classes. The clubs.” She sat with a furrowed brow while Hazel started gathering ingredients for dinner. After a while, Anne spoke again, “I hope it just happened that way. The meetings, I mean. I never saw anythingon the pamphlets about excluding anyone. I certainly would have noticed that. I’m sure some of them are prejudiced, but I’d guess that most of them just invited people they knew, and didn’t even think about it - like me...although I really should have known better - and that’s what happened. They do talk about securing the vote for _all_ women.”

“Yes, well. What kinds of decisions do you think happen when they are made _for_ people, instead of _with_ them? Anyway, time will tell. And right now, it’s _time_ for me to think about cooking. Why don’t you check on our baby?”

“All right.” Anne was disappointed to be dismissed so quickly, but she stood and started towards the parlor, then stopped short and spun back around. “Thank you,” she said to Hazel, who turned to look over her shoulder at the girl, “for making me aware. I am embarrassed, but that’s not unusual for me. I do seem to learn the best lessons from my most embarrassing mistakes. It would have been worse for me to go on in ignorance. Thank you for...not just...letting me.”

Hazel nodded, “As I tell Sebastian, there’s always more to learn.” She smiled, “And maybe you, at least, will listen.”

Anne smiled back and then turned to enter the dim parlor. The curtains were drawn to keep it cool; there never was much of a breeze through this room, given the way the windows were situated. Anne’s footsteps woke the child, who lay on the floor with her head on a cushion. Hazel’s basket of freshly washed and folded laundry next to her told the story of the task that had lulled Delly to sleep. The little girl rolled onto her back, rubbed her eyes, and blinked at Anne.

“Hello, Delly. Did you have a nice nap?” Anne cooed as she sat down next to her.

Delly nodded at her auntie, then sat up and crawled into her lap, “Nan-nan.” Anne snuggled her while she finished waking up. Suddenly, she wrinkled her little brow, then patted her own bottom with a chubby hand, “Uh-oh! I wet!”

“Oop!” Anne lifted her quickly under the arms and set her on her feet, “Then let’s get you changed!” She checked her own skirt. Sure enough, there was a damp patch just where Delly had been sitting. Anne sighed, then stood and picked the little girl up again, holding her out at arm’s length. “Everybody out of the way; wet baby, wet baby!” she called as she carried Delly down the hall to her nursery. Delly wiggled her legs and laughed.

Whenever Anne entered Delly’s bright, cheerful room, she went first to the window to touch the pretty yellow curtains in homage to the woman who had sewn them with so much love. Since her hands were full of toddler, Anne made a request, “Delly, feel the curtain?” Delly grabbed the fabric. “Your mama made that for you!” The little girl nodded.

As she lay Delly down and began to remove the wet diapers, Anne talked to her about Mary. “Your mama was soooo beautiful, and smart, and kind, and funny. And she loved your papa, and you and Elijah more than anything in the world.”

“Lijah!” Delly contributed.

Anne arranged the fresh diapers under the child, “Yes, Elijah was her baby boy, and you are her baby girl!”

Delly laughed, “Lijah no baby!” 

“Well,” Anne said with a finger tap to Delly’s nose, “He was a baby a long time ago, but then he ate all his vegetables and grew up big and strong!” She secured the first pin, then the second.

She heard the kitchen door open and close. She heard Hazel’s voice and then...ah, Gilbert’s, then Hazel’s again.

“Sounds like Uncle Gilbert’s home!” Anne told Delly, and the toddler yelled at the top of her lungs, “Gibert, Gibert, Gibert!”

The sound of Gilbert’s laughter, then his boots on the floor as he made his way to the nursery.

Anne lifted the now clean and dry little girl and met Gilbert at the door.

“My two best girls in one place?” he remarked, “How did I get so lucky?” Delly reached her arms out to him and he took her from Anne. He snuggled her close, blowing raspberries under her chubby chin. She squealed, and he kissed her forehead.

“Lijah no baby!” she declared.

He glanced at Anne with a raised eyebrow, then confirmed, “Noooo, Elijah is not a baby.”

Delly looked at Anne and shook her head, “No baby.”

“Hey - no fair ganging up on me!” she poked Delly in the belly, tickling her, “I said he _was_ a baby. A long time ago!” The little girl giggled.

Anne reached her hand up into Gilbert’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss. “Hi,” she said as she stepped back, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Yeah?”

Anne laughed, “Yes, I finished my article and I want your feedback.”

Gilbert opened his mouth to answer, but Delly interrupted, patting his chest with both hands. “Snack!” she demanded.

“Oh, me too, Delly, me too,” Gilbert reached his free hand out to take Anne’s, then turned back to the hallway, “Let’s see what your grandma has for us!”

As they walked, he told Anne, “I’m really excited to read it, but I can’t till tonight. I just came in for a quick bite and to change. Bash is anxious to get the hay out before it starts to rain.” Having arrived at the kitchen, he set Delly down in her chair, with a kiss to her curly head. Then he settled himself at the table.

Anne sat down across from him, a bit deflated. “Oh. I see. Yes, of course.”

Hazel brought him a plate of bread, meat, and cheese, “You will be impressed, I am sure!” she commented. “Anne is a talented writer.” She turned to get Delly’s food.

“Hazel, I read Anne’s letters all year! Believe me, I am very aware of her skill!” He began to wolf down the snack as if he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Thank you both for your high regard,” Anne gave a perfunctory smile, “This is a little different than our letters, though, I want your honest feedback”

Gilbert swallowed the food in his mouth, “I’ve corrected your spelling in a couple of those letters, you know. I can be critical!”

“Oh, really? Spelling? I can’t be expected to be as familiar with the spelling of medical terminology as you! Especially with that insane mixture of Greek and Latin bases! But anyway, yes, I want you to be critical. Just as you were when we worked on the Gazette together. And I’m quite confident you are not going to find any spelling errors in this article. I did not include any references to obscure body parts.”

Hazel looked at her with raised eyebrows. Gilbert snorted and nodded, chewing quickly. With the last bite in his mouth, he stood and took his plate to the sink. Turning to Anne, he said, “wait here - I’ll just change and then walk you back to Green Gables?”

“Or I’ll walk you to the hayfield, and then on my own the rest of the way back to Green Gables? Wouldn’t want to keep Bash waiting.”

“All right,” he shrugged, and disappeared down the hallway.

Anne rubbed her forehead and wondered if she might be developing a headache.She glanced over at Delly, who was squeezing a soft piece of bread in her little fist. She looked up at Anne, smiled, dropped the bread, and began clapping her hands while chanting, “No baby, no baby, no baby…”

Anne rolled her eyes, then stood and asked Hazel, “Anything I can help with while I wait?”

Hazel looked around, “Filet the fish?” she suggested.

It didn’t take Gilbert long to change into his farm clothes, and soon the two of them were on their way to the hayfield.

They walked hand-in-hand, but neither spoke. The air was heavy and still; everyone was expecting rain soon. Anne felt as if the oppressive atmosphere was weighing her down, too. This day was not going as she’d hoped, and she was unsettled.

Gilbert rubbed his free hand over his face.

“And how was your day?” Anne asked.

“Frustrating,” Gilbert huffed. “The epidemic is waning, fortunately, but now the doctors are trying to pick up patients from me and from Miss Michel. I wouldn’t mind giving all of mine over to them, if they were just a little more gracious and a little less entitled. It’s especially annoying when they’re rude and dismissive of the things I tried that actually worked. I haven’t seen how they act towards Miss Michel, but I met with her today, and from the little she said, I can only imagine it’s ten times worse...I suppose at least she’ll always have the patients they refuse to treat.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure that’s great consolation to her.” Anne shook her head. “Doctors who can’t see her value, nor even the humanity of some of the people she treats - this ridiculous discrimination shouldn’t be allowed!”

“No, I - “

“And of course it’s much worse for her than for you! She’s got to support herself with her work. Do they even consider that? I mean, you didn’t.” Gilbert flinched, but Anne was quick to continue, “Neither did I! We just didn’t bother to think about things from her perspective. They don’t think about her at all. It’s her livelihood, for heaven’s sake, but all they can see is the missed opportunity to line their own pockets!”

“I know, I -”

“First, they tell her she’s not smart enough to attend their perfect, precious schools. Then they tell people she isn’t competent because she doesn’t have a degree...”

“Anne!” Gilbert stopped walking and turned to face her, putting both his hands on her arms, “I’m not arguing with you. I told you my day was frustrating; I’m as outraged as you are. Not just for me; it’s insulting to me, but I’ll get over it.” 

“Yes,” Anne sighed, “I know. Sorry.”

Gilbert shrugged, “It’s all right. Just sometimes maybe I get to be the one who is righteously indignant?”He smirked, and she gave him a little smile in return.

They continued walking, but neither spoke again for several minutes. Eventually, Gilbert broke the silence, “So, Hazel read your article?”

“Yes,” Anne answered glumly, “But she’s not a citizen, and she’s skeptical about the movement’s intentions. She wasn’t even hopeful that Delly will be allowed to vote when she’s an adult.”

“Well,” Gilbert said, “Keep in mind that she’s seeing it all through her life experience in Trinidad. I’m not saying she’s wrong to be skeptical, but things are different here.”

“Different enough? She made me realize how normal it is for me to be in class, or the meetings, with only other white people. I think maybe in that situation, we’re going to be looking at things from a very limited point of view. That can’t be good for a movement that’s meant to be universal.”

Gilbert nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.

Anne was definitely developing a headache. The weather was suffocating. The boorish doctors were despicable. She had been looking forward to some exhilarating conversations about women’s rights; a cause that she cared about deeply. She’d dreamed of bringing enlightenment through her words. Yet Gilbert was too busy to engage with those words (she knew it wasn’t his fault that rain would spoil the hay if it was left in the field, but it was still disappointing!) and Hazel had instead brought her face-to-face with the limitations of her own narrow perspective (which she was, of course, grateful for, but it was still humiliating!). She felt foolish and discouraged and naive.

Then Gilbert spoke with a hopefulness that further clashed with Anne’s internal state, “You know we have a Black alderman in Toronto? It seems like people are forced to shift their expectations, at least a little, just because they see him officiating at events around town. Same as students are forced to question their prejudices when they see Dr. Oak leading lectures. There’s backlash, of course, but having people who are not white, or male, in those positions is likely important in getting us closer to anything resembling equality.”

“Likely,” Anne agreed, “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I go to school in slow, pokey Charlottetown, and I live in slower, pokier Avonlea. I’ve never even been to Toronto!”

Gilbert eyed Anne, uncertain where this line of thought was taking her.“No…” he began carefully, “I hope you can visit me this year...”

“Yes, yes, me too, of course, but I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about perspective, and exposure, and awareness, and ignorance!”

They had reached the hayfield. Bash was near the road, leaning on his rake. Having heard the raised voices, he’d been watching the two as they approached. “Hello, Anne!” he called. “Is this boy bothering you? I’d be happy to take him off your hands!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes.

Anne did her best to exorcise the dismal mood with a deep breath, then gave Bash a little smile, “No, it’s the world that’s bothering me, and all the troubles in it. I guess I’m having a Jonah day. Gilbert just happened to be conveniently within earshot.” She glanced at said boy, and he smiled back at her.

She looked around to find Elijah and spotted him at work further out in the field. She waved, and he stopped working for a moment to wave back.

Gilbert nudged Anne’s shoulder, “Just look at him, Anne. Very tall. I have no idea why you’d be calling him a baby…”

Bash wrinkled his brow and looked between the two of them, “What’s this? Elijah a baby?”

Now Anne rolled her eyes, “I said ‘was’. Past tense.”

“I guess we’ll have to get the true story from Delly when we get home,” Gilbert told his very confused brother.

Bash shrugged and shook his head, “All right, now. The way you two flirt is always strange, but no need to involve my innocent baby girl.”

“What? I was not…” Anne spluttered, “That wasn’t...Oh, whatever. Have fun with your hay!” and she skulked off.

Bash turned to Gilbert, “Whoops! I was just teasing. Did I take it too far?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe I did. She really does seem to be having a difficult afternoon.” Gilbert watched Anne walking away. “Let me see what I can do. I’ll be right back to help, I promise.”

Bash nodded, “Tell her I didn’t mean anything. Well, truth be told, I do think your flirting is pathetic, but that’s mostly your fault and I’d rather give you a hard time about it than her, any day.”

“That’s very funny,” Gilbert deadpanned. “What I meant to say was I’ll _probably_ be back to help.”

“It’s your hay, too, Blythe,” Bash shrugged with a smile and got back to raking.

“Hey, Anne,” Gilbert called as he ran after her. She turned to look at him. When he was near enough, he reached out to take her hand. “Bash and I are both sorry about the teasing. I was just trying to cheer you up a little, but it’s okay if you’re not in much of a jovial mood. I really am looking forward to reading your article tonight. I’ll bring it by Green Gables tomorrow with my notes, okay?”

Anne nodded, then stepped up to him and leaned her forehead against his chest, “Okay. And the rain will have come by then and cleared the air, and maybe it will clear these clouds in my head, too.” She pulled her hand out of his so she could wrap both arms tight around his waist. She breathed in the scent of his shirt, and he kissed the top of her head. Anne gave him a squeeze and let him go. “I can’t wait to hear what you think,” she said.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, just as she’d been remembering earlier, and looked into her eyes, “I’m sorry you’re having a Jonah day. I guess we wouldn’t appreciate the good days as much if we didn’t have the hard ones, but knowing that doesn’t make them any easier to live through.” He kissed her gently. “I’m still glad to be within earshot today, as you said, instead of halfway across the country.” He smiled at her, “And I trust Marilla and Matthew will be glad to be within earshot tonight, too. I hope your evening is better than your afternoon.”

The shadow of a smile flitted across her face, “Thanks”.

He kissed her once more. “See you tomorrow,” and he turned back to the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is taken from Fredrick Douglass' 1888 speech before the International Council of Women.


	7. Uncommon Steadiness of Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby comes to Anne for romantic advice. Anne thinks Gilbert should give romance lessons. I promised lots of kissing; this chapter lives up to that promise, eventually.

The rain had come with a vengeance, accompanied by bright flashes of lightning and loud peals of thunder that continued into the wee hours of the night. In the grey dawn the farm families of Avonlea were relieved to discover that there had been no hail; the crops had been spared this time. The clouds remained, dropping rain in tempestuous intermittent showers throughout the day. Anne was surprised, then, to find Ruby Gillis - damp hat and cloak, muddy boots, and all - at her kitchen door in the early afternoon.

“I need your advice. And a quiet place to think, I guess,” Ruby explained as she hung up her things. 

Marilla peeked out from the sewing room, “Hello Ruby. You didn’t walk all the way here in this weather, did you?” 

“Oh, no ma’am. I brought the buggy. Mr. Cuthbert was kind enough to take care of it for me just now.” 

Marilla nodded, “All right then. Well, I’m sure you didn’t come to visit with me, but I hope you will stay for tea?” 

“Thank you. I do actually have quite a bit to discuss with Anne, so I expect I will still be around at tea time”. 

“Lovely,” Marilla smiled, “I’ll get back to my work then and leave you two to your conversation.”

Ruby followed Anne into the parlor. “I’m stuck at home with all my sisters - for once, they might be useful, but none of them understand me.” They sat on the sofa and Ruby took Anne’s hands, looking at her very seriously, “But you are in the same situation as me - romantically, I mean - and I wonder if it troubles you, too?” She peered at her friend as if seeking sympathy in her expression.

Anne frowned, ‘Um, I’m sorry, Ruby, but you’ll have to be more specific. We are both in romantic relationships,” Oh, that was still thrilling to say out loud! “But what’s troubling you about it?”

Ruby released Anne’s hands and settled back into the corner of the sofa. “Well, maybe it is different for you since summer is really the only time you’ve spent with Gilbert. If you had him _always_ to escort you _everywhere_ during the school year and showing up at Blackmore _every single_ Saturday afternoon, maybe you’d understand.”

Ruby’s insensitivity towards the way Anne felt about Gilbert’s absence at precisely those occasions stung a bit, and she may have been a bit snappish in her reply, “I think I’d still need you to say more about exactly what the problem is. You’re not being very clear just now.”

Ruby shrugged, “And usually _I’m_ the one who has no idea what _you’re_ talking about. It’s just that...well...there was Gilbert...though that was really very one-sided after all. Now there’s Moody, and I do care for him. But...is that...all?” She could see that her friend was still confused, and sighed, “You remember when we were little girls, I meant to have strings of beaux and turn down several proposals before finally saying yes to my one true love?”

“Of course,” Anne smiled at the recollection, “but I think we’ve all grown up a bit, and grown out of some of our grand romantical notions.” That didn’t sound quite right. “Not that real life has turned out to be less romantical!”

“But what if it has, Anne? What if we don’t even know what we’re missing?” She leaned forward, “What if we’re just settling for the first real-life boys we’ve taken a fancy to...well, second for me, but you know what I mean. What if your Prince Wisteria is out there waiting for you in some far-off place - or even at Queens - but you’ll never meet him because you’ve stopped looking at anybody else as a possibility?”

Anne shook her head. “Real-life Gilbert is so much better than Prince Wisteria, because he’s real, and my friend. He’s...well, he’s Gilbert! I don’t want to discover anybody else.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, “Of course, Miss ‘Everything-Perfectly-Sorted-by-the-Ripe-Old-Age-of-17’. Didn’t you tell me the first time you had ice cream was here, at the church picnic?”

Anne was flummoxed by the abrupt change of subject, “What? Ice cream? Yes. So?”

“Didn’t you think you had a favorite dessert before that? But you didn’t even know what ice cream tasted like!”

There was something not quite right here, but Anne couldn’t put her finger on it. Ruby was correct; the experience of ice cream had certainly rearranged her ranking of desserts. “But...if you think like that, you’d never eat dessert because there might be a better one out there. Or a better mate. At some point you find someone who...you know, just _fits_ with you and your life; and then you build from there. Eventually, you have enough history that nobody else could compete.”

“Maybe,” Ruby replied skeptically, “But might it be wrong to think ‘some point’ should come practically the same minute that you are old enough to court? If I was courted by five boys, say, I like to think that I’d still choose Moody. But what if I shouldn’t?”

Anne needed a moment to think about this. Ruby was not inclined to give her one. “Plus,” she asserted, “I miss looking! I mean, it is nice to know I never have to go to any function alone, but then once we are there, I can’t even look at any of the other boys because I worry about being suspected of flirting with them. I wouldn’t want to hurt Moody’s feelings...but flirting is fun! I was looking forward to flirting for several years at college before settling down.”

“Ruby!” Anne exclaimed, “You’ve been with Moody all year, and you’ve never said anything about missing anything the whole time! You just swoon over what Moody said and what Moody did. It seems to me that you’ve been enjoying yourself immensely. Moody obviously cares for you. I don’t understand; isn’t being with him more fun than flirting?”

“We have had a lot of fun…” Ruby looked thoughtful, then a realization came to her. “Is it for you, Anne? Being with Gilbert is more fun than flirting with him was?”

Anne had to blink a few times, stunned at the question. “Yes! Oh my word, yes! Ten thousand times more fun!” She paused, thoughtful, “Although, I’m not really sure what we were doing was proper flirting. It wasn’t like I was trying to get him to notice me. We were just...rivals for so long, and then friends, and…”

“Yes, Anne, I know. I was there the whole time. I was there when you told us the two of you were courting. Nobody was more surprised than me. So, no, maybe what you were doing wasn’t flirting, exactly.” She propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. Both of the girls were lost in thought for a few moments. Then suddenly Ruby spoke with a new excitement, “When the summer is over and we’re back in Charlottetown, you should try it!”

“Absolutely!” Gilbert agreed as he strolled into the parlor, “Anne should try everything in Charlottetown!” He began to lower himself into an easy chair but immediately stopped when he noticed both girls were staring at him, horrified. “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have intruded...Uh, what was the topic?”

Anne gave a little laugh and felt the color rising to her cheeks, “Flirting?”

Ruby gasped, “ANNE!”

Gilbert looked between both of them. His hand went to the back of his neck. “Oh, uh…then, no, actually. I...’ his brow furrowed. He looked at Anne, then at her guest, “You know, Ruby, if you don’t want Anne telling me you are encouraging her to flirt in my absence, it would be wiser not to encourage her to flirt in my absence.” He set Anne’s article, which she just realized he was carrying, on the table next to her. 

Still addressing Ruby, he said, “I’ll leave you two to discuss whatever you want; I don’t think I’d be comfortable interjecting myself in this particular conversation”. He turned to Anne and spoke more gently, “Sorry for interrupting. Here’s your article, with my notes. We can discuss them later. I did my best to be critical, but there really wasn’t much to criticize; I just had a couple of thoughts.” He gave Ruby a curt nod, and walked out of the parlor.

Anne looked at the papers, then at Ruby, then at the doorway. She jumped to her feet with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” and ran after Gilbert, calling, “No, wait, wait!”

He hadn’t gotten very far, and stopped in the kitchen at her request. 

“Don’t go! You’ve just come over all this way in the rain and I don’t want to put off talking about my article for another day. Who knows what Bash will need you for tomorrow? Please, stay for tea, and we can go over my article afterwards?” 

“I’d like to,” Gilbert began, “but there’s at least another hour till tea time, and I’m NOT joining in the conversation with Ruby just now. How do you suggest I occupy myself in the meantime?”

Anne gave him a little smile, “No, I don’t think we need you in the parlor. I don’t understand her at all right now, but these relationships we’ve gotten ourselves into are new for both of us. She’s trying to work something out for herself, and she thought I could help.”

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, “By planning flirtation escapades in Charlottetown? I’m going to let ‘gotten yourselves into’ slide for the moment in the service of more pressing concerns. Anne, Moody’s our friend, too. Is she being disloyal to him?”

“Gilbert!” Anne exclaimed, “You of all people should know how loyal Ruby is! I said she’s trying to figure things out. She hasn’t done anything yet. And you know I’ll advise her to talk with Moody about all this!” She sighed, “She can be flighty, but she’s NOT sneaky or deceitful. Truly, she’s just sorting out her feelings. Once they’re clear, I’m sure she’ll be honest with him.”

Gilbert nodded, “I would expect that. But then, I wouldn’t have expected to stumble into the conversation I did.” 

Anne smiled, “I think I’ll just try not to expect anything else this afternoon, and allow whatever happens next to happen...Oh!” She grabbed Gilbert’s hand and led him to the sewing room, “Marilla, could Gilbert help with the broken shelf in the cellar?”

Marilla looked at them over her glasses, “I thought you were going to join the girls in the parlor, Gilbert. There’s really no need; Matthew can get to it soon enough. He’s just been avoiding it so he can forget that he was wrong about the number of full crocks it would hold. He’s lucky it was the bottom shelf...But he should make ammends for his own mistake. ”

“At the risk of denying Matthew his lesson,” Gilbert grinned, “I am not currently welcome in the parlor-” 

Anne interrupted, “But I’d like Gilbert and Ruby both to stay for tea, and Gilbert has comments on my article that I want to hear this afternoon, so he needs some busywork in the meantime.” She smiled at them both.

“I’d be very happy to help with the shelf, Marilla. It will ease my guilt about all the times, like this one, that I’ve just happened to find my way over here near a meal time. I suppose I should also admit that may not be completely accidental…”

“Yes, you’re not as subtle as you may think.” Marilla answered wryly as she stood and walked away from her machine, “about several things, actually.” She removed her glasses as she walked past him towards the cellar, “All right then, this way.”

Gilbert turned to give Anne a quick kiss before following Marilla, and laughed when she murmured, “That kind of thing, for example.” 

\-----

“I think it’s just that we’re home again for the summer, and everything is the same here, practically. So I’ve started to realize that if Moody and I continue to court, and end up…” her face grew very pink, “well, you know...it just makes me feel like nothing ever will change. I don’t know; that’s not quite right. Ugh - I’ve just been so restless, and I’m not sure why!”

Anne noticed the clock, “Well, it’s just about tea time. When I get frustrated with all the complexities and seeming contradictions inherent in growing up, a little sustenance is often helpful.” She stood, “Shall we see if we can help Marilla prepare?”

Ruby jumped up, “Yes, let’s! I’m actually surprised how hungry all this conversation has made me.” 

As they entered the dining room, Marilla was just setting the tea to steep, “Did you talk out all your troubles, Ruby?” she asked with a smile.

“Not completely, but Anne was definitely more helpful than my sisters! I never ask my mother for romantic advice; she’s just worried all the time. I guess there _are_ a lot of us girls to worry about.” Anne handed her the plates, and she started setting them around the table. “Actually, Miss Cuthbert, I know you never married but you must have seen the start and result of a lot of marriages. The question that’s been bothering me is whether it’s better to have several beaux over a few years so that you know what you’re looking for in a husband, or to settle for the first man you really like, even if you’re as young as Anne and I are?”

Marilla glanced at Anne, who clearly had an opinion about “settling”, but decided to tackle Ruby’s question before any sparks could fly. “Well, I suppose I have witnessed the history of quite a few couples.” She paused to think of specific examples. “Actually, Anne and I have talked about how young she is, and I think it’s a good thing, though I know it’s difficult, that she and Gilbert are testing their relationship by spending so much time apart.” She turned to Anne, “Since he’s here right now, though, I don’t suppose you’d want to go fetch him from the cellar for tea?”

Anne faked a weary sigh, “Only as a great personal favor to you, Marilla!”

“Fiddlesticks!” Marilla chuckled as Anne skipped away, “Mind, I don’t expect it to take very long. Last I checked on him, he was almost finished.”

“Of course not! I promise the tea will not be cold when next you see me.” 

As Anne reached the stairs, she could hear Marilla advising Ruby, “While I can’t give you a sure-fire recipe for conjugal bliss, it does seem to be important that each person really knows who they are as an individual first. Rachel Lynde, for example, has been completely herself for long before she married Thomas, though she was only 18…”

Even when the sun was shining its brightest, summer never fully reached the cellar. On a rainy day like today, it seemed extra cold and dark and even damp, though Marilla did everything humanly possible to keep things from getting too musty. Anne shivered a little; this was the kind of damp that settled into your bones and made it hard to warm up for the rest of the day. Poor Gilbert had been working away down here for a long time!

He mustn't have been completely miserable though; she heard him humming an old sea shanty to himself. He was laying on his back, one leg straight out; the other bent, with his head under the empty shelf. As far as Anne could tell, the repair looked complete.

Gilbert heard her footfalls on the stairs, and pulled his head out, smiling when he saw who approached. “Is it safe to come up now?” he teased. “Your Charlottetown games all scheduled?”

Anne dropped to her knees next to him, “Mostly, but I needed your advice. What do you think would be a respectable number of beaux for me to string along before the Christmas holidays? You know I don’t like to do anything by half-measures, but between all the schoolwork and meetings and pining for you, there’s really very little time.”

Gilbert chuckled and pushed himself up to sitting. “What if I authorized a fifty-percent reduction in your pining?”

Anne sighed and shook her head, “That’s very generous of you, but I’m afraid I’d just use that extra time to daydream about you or write you longer letters.”

He smiled, but as he lifted one of her hands out of her lap to kiss it, the humor in his eyes faded into something much more wistful. 

“Don’t,” she said, as she put her other hand on his cheek, “Don’t miss me while we’re still together. You will squander the little time we have left.” She leaned forward, and rested her forehead against his. He slid his hand behind her neck and gently rubbed it with his thumb as they sat in silence. 

Eventually, Gilbert pulled away to look into Anne’s eyes, “You know you could have as many beaux as you want, if I weren’t in the picture? I suspect you’ve already turned down a number of suitors eager to pay you a call on a Saturday afternoon.”

Anne wrapped both her arms around his neck and smiled, “Oh, yes, oodles. But none of them, I suspect, would kiss me like you do.”

“Oh yeah?” he raised an eyebrow, “None of them would know about this…” The last word was muffled as Gilbert leaned in to press his lips against hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist, “or this?” He kissed a line from behind her ear, down her neck to the collar of her blouse.

“Mmm…no,” Anne murmured, “no, I don’t believe they would.”

“Well then,” he pulled her closer as he kissed her lips again.

When the kiss ended, she sighed, “Honestly, if you need a little spending money this year, you could charge for lessons.” Gilbert was smirking at her, and she hurried to clarify, “The boys. You could charge the boys...wait, I mean…”

He laughed, but his voice and eyes were soft, “Nope. I couldn't charge for an incomplete lesson, and I could only teach half of it.”

“Because you’d have to leave out my part?”

“Oh, there’s that, too. But I was thinking about the two steps.” One of his fingers traced the side of her face, forehead to chin, and his eyes followed. “The second is easy once you’ve got the first, but they’d all fail the first.” He traced the other side of her face. 

Anne swallowed, “What’s the first?”

He shook his head languidly, and his finger traced her lower lip, “I have to tell you the second first.”

“OK,” she breathed, “what’s the second?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as he slowly, gently, kissed the tip of her nose, “The second is to put all of the love,” Anne felt his breath on her skin as he kissed her brow, “and desire,” left cheek, “and awe,” chin, “and gratitude,” right cheek, “that you feel into every kiss.” He finished with a very light kiss to her bottom lip.

She opened her eyes and whispered dreamily, “That might be enough of a lesson by itself. May I ask about the first now?”

He nodded as he twirled a loose strand of her hair around his finger. “The first is to find the most incredible girl in the world, and get her to fall in love with you.” He let the hair go to take her hands in his and kissed each one in turn. His eyes found hers, “I couldn’t teach that, because I have no idea how I did it, but the most incredible girl in the world is already in love with me.”

“Oh,” She probably should have said something profound and moving in return, but the part of her that had command of the English language had completely melted. Fortunately, the non-verbal part of her knew exactly how to respond, and she leaned in to kiss Gilbert with all the love, and desire, and awe, and gratitude that she was feeling.

“Anne,” Marilla’s voice from the top of the stairs broke the enchantment, “The tea is no longer hot, but moving rapidly towards tepid.”

Anne giggled against Gilbert’s smile. She leaned back on her hands and yelled up, “Perfect! I only promised to be up before it’s cold!”

Gilbert laughed and pushed himself up to standing, then held out a hand to help Anne up. As soon as she was on her feet, she grabbed his vest with both hands and pulled him in for one more joyful kiss. When she released him, he took her hand and led her up the stairs to tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey.
> 
> Are the Roody shippers out there OK? I love Ruby and Moody both! I wish them all the best. Endgame or not - remains to be seen😏
> 
> Synonyms for "kiss" include peck, smack, smooch, and osculation. I could not bring myself to use any of those this chapter, so please pardon the repetition.
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who's gotten this far!!! I really appreciate all of you! Please let me know what you love, hate, and hope for!


	8. Friends Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Stacy takes Anne, Gilbert, and their friends on an expedition. They discover some old Avonlea magic.

“Alright, Miss Stacy, if we’re not having our picnic at the beach, where are we going?” Anne asked from her perch next to Gilbert at the front of the wagon. Miss Stacy and Diana sat on the seat behind them, and Moody was trying not to slide around too much in the wagon bed at their backs. 

“And am I still headed in the right direction?” Gilbert added.

Their once-teacher laughed, “Only because we haven’t reached the T intersection yet. When we get there, please take a left. Do you know where Lucas Simms farms?”

“Out south of town? Yes, I think so.”

“Excellent! Because your story about Mabel McLeod piqued my interest, Anne, and I’ve been doing a little sleuthing.”

“Oh, did you ask Mrs. Lynde? I know she’s been to the house.”

“Rachel was, of course, the first person I asked. So yes, I had directions right away. Well, not exactly right away. You may quiz me on anything there is to know about Mabel and her family, as long as it’s something Rachel has an opinion about. Which, as you might have guessed, is pretty much everything she knows about them. At any rate, while she was an excellent source of proclamations on…” she ticked off the topics on her fingers, “young women living in isolation, elderly aunts raising young women, young women with aspirations, and, actually, the state of the medical field throughout all of Canada over the past twenty years,” she glanced at Gilbert, who shook his head with a grin, ”she had no idea whether the homestead was ever sold, or what ultimately became of Mabel. It took a little more digging, and bumping up against a few dead ends, to find out who to ask for permission to explore the grounds.”

Anne gripped the seat back as she turned to Miss Stacy with wide eyes, “We’re going to explore the grounds? Oh, how thrilling! I wonder what they left behind! Nobody has lived there since Mabel left?”

“Apparently not. Mr. Simms told me he is allowed to store equipment in the bottom floor of the barn, but otherwise the buildings are to be left as they are.” 

Diana frowned, ‘As if she wanted to be able to resume residence at the drop of a hat? How odd! It’s been so long.”

“Yes,” Miss Stacy nodded, “In fact, the terms of the lease get renegotiated by proxy every three years, and Mr. Simms says that directive is always reinstated.”

“So she’s still alive?” Anne asked.

“Presumably. Or she bequeathed the land to someone who has reason to keep terms the same. I was soundly shut down any time I asked the paper pushers about Mabel’s whereabouts. There is surely some mystery there!”

Anne and Diana exchanged an excited smile with the teacher.

“But if you didn’t get permission from Miss McLeod, how can it be OK for us to explore?” Moody asked.

“Yes, well, I suppose I should give you the chance to make a case for the beach after all, if there’s any concern. We don’t technically have the landowner’s permission. I got so tired of all the condescending brush-offs I was getting in trying to track her down, I eventually gave up and asked Mr. Simms. He assured me that in all the years he’s been renting, he’s never run into another soul on the property. We have his permission to picnic there and look around, as long as we are careful not to break anything.”

There was a pause as everyone did their best not to look at Moody. He sighed, “Just keep me away from anything resembling a light bulb, and we should be fine.”

Miss Stacy turned to give him a sympathetic smile, then glanced around at the others, “So… beach or farm?”

“Farm!” was the unanimous response.

They bounced along over the dirt roads, which were now dry but slightly more rutted after the recent rainstorms. The sky was very blue, with just a handful of faint, wispy clouds drifting along at the same speed as the gentle breeze keeping everyone cool. The day was warm, but Anne could feel summer loosening its grip; the midday heat was decidedly less intense, and there had been a distinct bite to the air just before dawn. Anne noticed this because dawn was breaking later, and she’d already been awake this morning when it did. Normally, the change of seasons from summer to fall was something she anticipated and relished. There were usually things about the waning season to miss, but as least as many things about the oncoming season to look forward to. This year - she watched Gilbert’s hands as he managed the reins - but no, she had plenty of practice at distracting herself from unhappy thoughts, and she was determined to put that practice to use until...well, until much later. 

“Did Mr. Simms have anything to say about the state of the house?” Diana asked Miss Stacy. Anne turned to hear the answer, allowing her curiosity to eclipse any other feelings. 

“He said that everything was sealed up tight, and very tidy. I doubt that we’ll be able to just peer in the windows and see how they lived. But if there are clues to be found, I am certain this is the crew that will find them!”

“There are always clues, in my experience,” Anne asserted, “Or at least surprises. Discoveries to be made. Even if it’s just which of the perennials she planted - if she planted perennials - have survived. I am absolutely positive that when we travel this road in the opposite direction later today, we will know something more about Mabel than we do now.”

“The first discovery that I want to make is what’s in this basket,” Moody offered, patting the large picnic basket next to him. “When I volunteered to sit back here, I didn’t realize how the aromas would torture me.” He took a deep sniff, “Fried chicken, maybe?” He sniffed again, “definitely some kind of pickles.”

Gilbert groaned, “I’m getting us there as quickly as I can, Moody. Could you be a hero and suffer the torture alone? It’s been ages since breakfast!”

Diana laughed, “If you’d arrived at my house on time, you might have seen all the contributions being packed away. But I suppose I’m the only one who knows the full menu. Let me just assure you boys that you will not go hungry. But Anne,” she asked with a twinkle in her eye, “don’t you think we should explore the grounds first to find the perfect picnic spot?”

“Yes, yes, I think that would be wise.” Anne nodded sagely, “If we’re not careful, we might set up over an anthill, or amidst some poison ivy, if the yard is really overgrown. And then, we’ll want some shade, but I know you’re wary of sitting directly under the trees.”

Diana shuddered, “I still have nightmares about those caterpillars dropping on me. The whole brood must have emerged all at once…”

“Oh, my!” Miss Stacy gasped, “that must have been...unpleasant. But you’re in luck. By this time in the season, they’ve all metamorphosed! Still,” she winked, “better safe than sorry!”

“Very funny.” Moody smirked, “I think you’re forgetting that the food is in this basket. Here. Right next to me.” He patted it again.

“Don’t worry, Moody,” Gilbert contributed, “I happen to know that Hazel made toolum for us, and I happen to have shared that information with Anne. I expect we’ll be eating within five minutes of our arrival.”

Anne opened her mouth to respond, but Miss Stacy exclaimed, “Hazel’s toolum?! Gilbert,” she put her hand on his shoulder, “drive faster.”

The lane to the McLeod homestead was well-maintained, and wound through an established stand of trees. Gilbert maneuvered the wagon around one last clump of bushes, and the scene opened up ahead of them. The lane veered off to their left, directly up to a large, greying barn. There was a hint of indentation in tall weeds and grass indicating where another lane once led straight ahead to the tidy, green, two-story house. It was smaller than Anne had imagined. Her fancy about the vast library was quickly abandoned. There were boards nailed over all of the windows, as well as the front door. This was not about to deter exploration, but the group decided unanimously, despite earlier teasing, that the first order of business was lunch.

The level lawn was perfect for a picnic. The grass was tall and spotted with the blossoms of orange hawkweed, violet ground ivy, and white milkvetch in patches throughout. Everyone worked together to stomp down a large circle near the house, after a mad rush (led by Anne) to pick any flowers in the targeted space. They spread out a blanket, and Anne lay her newly gathered bouquet in the center. Moody had smelled correctly, and Diana had predicted correctly. There was an abundance of fried chicken and pickles and plenty of other delicious foods, and it was perfectly rounded out with sweet bites of Hazel’s toolum. 

Conversation was mostly light and easy as the old chums updated each other on their summers to date. There were, however, a few awkward moments. Earlier, when everyone was gathering at the Barry house, Anne had just mentioned that Ruby wouldn’t be there after all, despite their original plans. Here on the McLeod lawn, as they were eating, Miss Stacy asked Moody, “Will you be seeing Ruby soon? I brought along some stamps that her mother requested last Sunday at church.” Anne, Gilbert, and Diana all looked at each other, then at Moody.

He turned a bit pink, but answered, “We’re actually not seeing each other right now.”

“Oh,” Miss Stacy said with concern, “I’m sorry; I hadn’t heard.”

Moody scratched the side of his neck, “You must have spoken to Mrs. Lynde before that decision was made, then.” He shrugged, “It’s OK. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a break. Ruby felt we were getting too serious too quickly.”

“And you did not?”

“Well, actually, I was just enjoying things as they were; not really concerned about where they might be going. Maybe girls think more about the future? Anyway, my parents are happy about it. I didn’t make the best grades last year. They expect an improvement now that I won’t be distracted.”

He nodded as if he agreed with this sentiment, but Anne thought he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. She asked him gently, “So...you don’t plan on seeing anyone else?”

He looked at her for a moment, then huffed out a breath, “Come on Anne, you know I’m not good at…” he waved his hands around, “...all that. Besides, lightning doesn’t strike twice. It’s Ruby! Who else could even compete?” He looked down at his food for a moment, then turned to Gilbert, “What would you do?”

Gilbert glanced at Anne before advising his friend, “I’m not sure I’m any kind of expert here. But I think...I think you can give yourself some time to figure it all out. I mean, Ruby asked for space. There’s not much you could have done other than accept that.” He frowned, “Well, there are things that others might have done - mean things - but that’s not you. So, here you are. All you can do, really, is wait and see. At some point you’ll be ready to move on - or you won’t, and then you have to talk to Ruby about it.” Moody nodded. Gilbert added, “I’m sorry. I know uncertainty is the hardest thing.” He looked at Anne again with a little smile, and she returned it.

Miss Stacy put a reassuring hand on Moody’s arm. “If it helps, there really aren’t any maps or rule books. Gilbert’s right; you have to listen to your heart, and do what you know to be right and kind. For yourself and for Ruby.”

Moody sighed, “Honestly, for now, it could be good to be a little less socially committed. I might enjoy more time for quiet studying.”

Anne volunteered, “And when you do want to get back into the social swing of things, I’m frequently in need of a platonic partner. Happy to be abandoned mid-event if you should get swept off your feet by some other girl.” 

“Thanks.”

Diana interjected, “Me, too, now that we’re clearly not nor ever will be romantically involved.”

Gilbert laughed, “You just doubled your opportunities for social events. We’ll see how much quiet studying you get done now.”

\-------

Once the picnic leftovers were all packed back up on the wagon, the group was eager to explore. First they circled the house. The only perennials they could see were two overgrown wild rose bushes flanking the front entrance. The boards over the first floor windows were in good shape, except for one rotting away at the back of the house. The bottom nail had rusted out, and it was easy to swing the board to the side. Excitement over this revelation fizzled quickly, though, as they discovered that the indoor blinds were closed tight. 

Gilbert backed up and squinted at the second story windows. “I think I can see an opening there.” He pointed to the window directly above them.

Moody looked up, then back at Gilbert. “If you stood on my shoulders, would you be high enough?”

“Hmmm,” He tried to estimate the height. “Maybe? Worth a try, I guess.”

Moody knelt down, but Miss Stacy was quick to intervene, “I don’t believe we need to test your acrobatic prowess today. When I asked that we be careful not to break anything, I see I should have specified that I meant any of our bones, as well as artifacts.” She looked around the homestead, “Why don’t you two see if there’s a ladder anywhere. In the barn, perhaps?”

The boys nodded. Gilbert smacked Moody’s arm with the back of his hand, “Race you!” and they were off.

Anne was scanning the grounds behind the house. There was a backyard, an outhouse, and then the fields began. “If I were a rubbish heap, where would I be?” she wondered aloud. Miss Stacy and Diana joined her search.

They hadn’t yet found any garbage when the large door to the barn’s haymow opened and Moody called out, “Hey, everyone, you’ve got to see this!”

Anne turned to her companions with a grin, hiked up her skirts, and said, “Race you!”

They arrived at the barn laughing and out of breath. The bottom floor was much as they might have expected. It was clean, as barns go; full of farming machinery and tools. There were several stalls for work animals, though none were currently present. A grey farm cat streaked across the floor in front of them and disappeared behind some bagged oats. 

One thing surprised Anne. Instead of the utilitarian rungs up the wall she was used to seeing as a haymow ladder, someone had built a set of shallow wooden steps with a handrail. This made it much easier for the members of the party who were wearing skirts to climb upstairs. As Anne looked up through the opening to the second floor, she wasn’t sure at first what she was seeing. Sunlight shone through a couple of high windows and through the gaps between slats of wood in the walls. Several small sparkly things were dangling from some kind of grid above her. She was preoccupied with getting closer to see what these were, until Gilbert, watching her ascend, said, “Look at the floor.”

Anne’s head had just popped over floor level. When she looked around her, she gasped. Diana and Miss Stacy emerged just behind her with similar reactions. The hay-free haymow floor was covered with intricate geometric patterns painted in bright colors. The designs were all within squares, but the size of the squares seemed completely random. As far as Anne could tell, none of the interior patterns repeated, either. There were checks and swirls and dots and blobs. She was delighted to spy one square filled with a grid of tiny red and white poppies. 

Just exploring the floor would have been an interesting occupation for the rest of the afternoon, but the ceiling, or false ceiling, demanded attention as well. Anne looked up to see a grid of fine wires above her. At each place where the wires crossed each other, there was string, twine, rawhide, or more wire hanging down, and a trinket attached at the bottom. These dangled just too high for Anne to reach them; Moody and Gilbert could. Some of the strings had broken over the years, and Anne looked around at the fallen items. There were shells, buttons, and bits of broken glass and porcelain. 

“What is this?” Diana breathed. 

Miss Stacy shook her head, eyes wide. “Art, I believe.”

Anne laughed, jumped over to a large square painted with a blue and white spiral, threw back her head, and spun in a circle with her arms outstretched, “It’s magic!” Diana giggled and, after watching for a moment, ran to spin beside her. 

Miss Stacy smiled at them, then turned around to study more of the floor. As she did, she caught Gilbert where he had squatted to pick up a button, staring intently at Anne. The teacher cocked her head, “Everything OK, Gilbert?” 

He cleared his throat and glanced at her as he stood, but his eyes went right back to the twirling girl. “Yeah.” He gave a little laugh, “There were whole days this summer I would gladly have skipped over; stuff I never want to think about again. And then there are the rarer moments when I feel nostalgic for things even as they’re happening.” 

Miss Stacy nodded sympathetically. “The trick, I think, is to experience those moments as fully as possible while they are happening, instead of missing them even before they’ve become only memories. I haven’t mastered it yet, but I’m improving. Keep working on it; I expect you’ll have plenty of chances to practice.”

They both watched as Anne and Diana collapsed dizzily against each other, still laughing. “And maybe,” the teacher continued, “you should consult our magic-attuned expert.”

The corner of Gilbert’s mouth tugged upward.

“Hey, look at this!” Moody startled everyone by yelling from the far wall. 

The group made their way over to him. There was a shelf all along this wall, and where Moody stood, some kind of small machine sat upon it. The machine had a wheel at one end, with a handle attached. The wheel’s long axle rested on a metal frame attached to a wooden base, and there was a metal cylinder over the axle at its midpoint. A small cone affixed to a hinge at the front of the wooden base rested on the cylinder. “I removed the cover very carefully,” Moody assured them. He pointed to a wooden box with a handle on top. Another lidded wooden box sat on the other side of the machine.

“Is it a phonograph?” Diana asked.

Miss Stacy peered closely at the machine. “I think so. It looks homemade. Perhaps Mabel built it?” She stood back with her chin in her hand, thoughtful. Then she looked at the lidded box. “I wonder…” she raised the lid to reveal several metal cylinders. “Ah,” she carefully lifted one out, “It’s tin foil. Very fragile.”

Moody took a step back. 

Miss Stacy laughed, “Not breakable, really; just easily altered. The sound degrades significantly each time it’s played. That’s why modern phonographs use wax. Only...” she brought the cylinder closer to her eyes and squinted at it, “I think these may have been etched.”

Anne’s eyes widened, “Is that sturdier? Could we play them? I’m dying of curiosity to hear what Mabel recorded!”

“Oh, we’re playing these! They’ve been gathering dust for almost as long as you young people have been alive. Even if they are tin foil, and I am inclined to think they aren’t, they were meant to be heard. We’ll just listen to each one once, to minimize our impact”.

“I’m glad we’re doing this before I take that ethics course,” Moody said, “I have a feeling it’s going to complicate my life even worse than it already is.”

Miss Stacy raised her eyebrows, “If you think this is unethical, please speak up. I have made my case, but any one of you is capable of making an equally strong case in opposition.”

“No, no,” Moody held his hands up in surrender, “I don’t want to open up a debate! I don’t have any strong opinion. Besides,” he shook his head, “it would mean taking on both you and Anne. I’m on vacation.”

Miss Stacy’s lips twitched. “Alright then, anyone else want to argue against?” 

Anne narrowed her eyes at Gilbert, but he laughed, “Much as I enjoy a good debate, I want to know what’s on those cylinders as much as anyone.”

“I have no qualms,” Diana said, “but then, I’ll be taking that ethics course next year, too.”

“That settles it, then,” Miss Stacy stepped up to the machine, “Though I really can’t wait to hear your analysis of this decision once you two have taken the class.”

The first cylinder began with a waltz, performed on piano, violin, and banjo. The sound was muffled and scratchy, and it took a few tries to get the revolution speed just right. As the music played, Gilbert took Anne’s hand. “May I have this dance?” At her enthusiastic assent, he swung her across the painted floor. It was a challenge for her to decide whether to look at the floor, the ceiling, or those happy hazel eyes. It seemed he was wrestling with a very similar question, and they found a satisfactory compromise. Every time their eyes met again after looking around, their smiles grew a little wider. They waltzed across the colorful barn floor as the sunlight bathed them in gold and made the baubles sparkle overhead.

Diana turned to Moody, “Platonic social partner?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“My thirteen-year-old self thought you’d never ask.” 

“Just so we’re clear, you heard ‘platonic’, right?”

Moody laughed, “Yes, Diana, loud and clear. In fact, you should know I’m only interested in dancing as practice for when Ruby takes me back.”

“Fair enough”.

Cylinder after cylinder, the music continued. The songs changed, but the instruments remained the same. Anne was a tiny bit disappointed that there was no singing. After a couple of dances, Diana volunteered to take a turn at the crank. The others followed suit, so that everyone, even Moody, had a turn playing the music while the others danced.

Miss Stacy was back at the helm for the final cylinder. Dancing partners had been constantly shuffled and now Gilbert was paired with Diana, while it was Anne’s turn with Moody. But as the crackling of a new cylinder began, a young woman’s voice emanated from the horn. “Aunt Anna, you’re first.”

Anne and Diana both gasped, and everyone rushed to crowd around the phonograph.

An older woman began. She spoke clearly, enunciating each word carefully.

“We have been friends together,  
In sunshine and in shade;  
Since first beneath the chestnut trees  
In infancy we played.  
But coldness dwells within thy heart,  
A cloud is on thy brow;  
We have been friends together—  
Shall a light word part us now?”

The young woman spoke again. “Now, Aunt Louise”.

This woman’s voice was husky and she spoke slowly, with an accent that Anne thought vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.

“We have been gay together;  
We have laughed at little jests;  
For the fount of hope was gushing  
Warm and joyous in our breasts.  
But laughter now hath fled thy lip,  
And sullen glooms thy brow;  
We have been gay together—  
Shall a light word part us now?”

The younger woman recited the third stanza of the poem.

“We have been sad together,  
We have wept with bitter tears,  
O’er the grass‐grown graves, where slumbered  
The hopes of early years.  
The voices which are silent there  
Would bid thee clear thy brow;  
We have been sad together—  
Oh! what shall part us now?”

She paused, and then said, “We Have Been Friends Together, by Caroline Sheridan Norton, as recited by Anna McLeod, Louise Christmas, and Mabel McLeod”. There was a chorus of laughter then, but it ended abruptly, assumedly when Mabel stopped the recording.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment as the dust motes continued their dance through the sunbeams. Gilbert offered Anne his handkerchief, which she took gratefully, though she noticed his own eyes were dewy. There was a general clearing of throats, dabbing at eyes, and sniffing amidst the group for a little while. Then Anne spoke, “I would so love to hear that at least one more time, but sadly, it’s the one cylinder I think we should most carefully preserve for Mabel, in case she ever comes back.”

Miss Stacy nodded, and returned the cylinder to its box with the others. She closed the lid and covered the phonograph again. “Well,” she sniffed, “You were certainly right about discoveries to be made.”

The group stood looking at each other. Moody shook himself and said, “We never did find a ladder.”

Miss Stacy laughed and looked around, “I don’t think there is one hiding up here. Downstairs seems more likely. Did you search thoroughly there?”

He shook his head, “I had just started looking when Gilbert called me up here.”

“Let’s see what we can find, then.”

Anne and Gilbert were the last down the stairs. Gilbert held the hatch open while Anne, her head just above the floor, looked around one last time and blew a kiss in the direction of the phonograph. As Gilbert lowered the hatch he asked her, “Sad to say goodbye?”

She smiled up at him, “A little. But I think my life is richer just for knowing this place is here. I’m so, so glad we came today and saw it! Even if the barn were to be struck by lightning and go up in flames tonight, we’ll still carry it with us for the rest of our lives. Someone knows now. Mabel shouldn’t be forgotten; she was extraordinary!” 

They continued down the stairs. Gilbert asked, “Will you write about her?”

“Yes, but I won’t submit anything to be published until I know for certain whether she’s alive. Oh!” she turned back to him. “Moody said you called him up. I have you to thank for this magnificent discovery!”

“It was just luck - if he’d volunteered to check the second floor you’d have him to thank”.

“But he didn’t, so it’s you, and I’m incredibly grateful for that, because this is how I feel like saying thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He fully participated, and then glanced up to see if any of the others were looking. Moody and Miss Stacy were intent on searching for the ladder, but Diana had just turned around. She put her hands on her hips, raised an eyebrow, and pursed her lips. Gilbert put his hands up, “I...she…oh, whatever, Diana.” He pulled Anne back to him and kissed her soundly one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you endlessly for continuing to read this story; I truly appreciate every single comment and kudo! It was crazy of me to start another, but I think part of my motivation was some acknowledgement that I was going to miss this one once it's finished...in just two chapters.😫 I'm much more like Gilbert than Anne when it comes to dealing with anticipation of loss. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, and that you're staying safe and healthy in these strange days!


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